


Rilakkuma Sonnets

by anothertakeonromance



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Chores kink?, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Housemates AU, Introverted Chanyeol, Language, M/M, Mutual Pining, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 03:20:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17093057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anothertakeonromance/pseuds/anothertakeonromance
Summary: Roses on your cheeks, diamonds in your eyes, your truthful lies that taste so sweet. Not all sonnets are written in verse.





	Rilakkuma Sonnets

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The celebrities’ names/images are merely borrowed and do not represent who the celebrities are in real life. No offense is intended towards them, their families or friends. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. I do not own any of the poems or songs/lyrics mentioned. No copyright infringement is intended. Also, I’ve never been to SK, so this is clearly a fictional depiction of the land, its customs and people.  
>  **Author’s Note:** Hello~ and welcome to the fluff side of things! This story is mostly fluff and cuddles, it’s very self indulgent, and I hope it’s as swooningly sweet to read as it is for me to write it --I keep adding scenes because I need to express so much fluff! But worry not, it’s mostly written by now, so it will end at some point (at about four chapters maybe? we’ll see hehe) It's marked Not Rated because the rating might change to include smut, so be warned; also, this is my first time using this platform and I am notoriously clumsy with technology, so please be patient with me. _Very important note:_ this is my adopted fic for exohousewarming (2017 round), I’m not sure my prompter even remembers prompting this, but I’d like to thank them, as well as the mods, who are so sweet and patient, they deserve the biggest hug!! Thank you F, for enlightening me with your civil engineer wisdom, and thank you to all the cute souls who’ve been cheering me on, too~ I hope everyone will enjoy the story!

‘Tis Spring anew; the season of blooms and lovers and poets, and I, thy humble nature’s servant, have come to serve my purpose. I hear the blossoms sigh, I hear the foliage giggle, the beauty of all colors swirling into life. I love with burning passion, I sing to my mate’s delight, dancing with her into the glinting sunlight. But as a poet above all, I welcome Spring into my heart, with gentle words and endless songs, with wisdom of the past.

Oh Spring, you’re sweet and I cannot resist your charm; but forgive my babblings, I am merely a sparrow of dulcet musings. As a seasoned traveller, I have just arrived at my springtime home of choice, the olden bough of a fragrant oak tree, where I intend to build my nest; come spring, come younglings, come sweet and fresh affections. I am quite in like with this effervescent garden, familiar in its time, with its vibrant flowers and tended paths, quaintly arched branches and the occasional company of one featherless being, a _human_ , who yearly inhabits the great nest, built in the midst of it all. This human is very affable, if not his presence scarce, but I’ve had the pleasure of spending a number of serene afternoons with him. He sometimes listens to me as I recite poems in the garden, but most often he can be found immersed in far more tedious pursuits, hunched over his papers, in the room behind the invisible wall.

In fact, I reckon I should pay him a housewarming visit anon.

The breeze caresses my wings softly as I fly over the great nest, to the other side of the garden, my stealth talons wrapping around the greening branch closest to the invisible veil. The foliage shivers upon my arrival, sunspots quivering and shielding from sight, and lo, the human is here indeed, drawing delicate shapes on his papers attentively, devoted and consistent. From his scrawls I gather he builds nests for others, far and wide, ever so hardworking and dedicated, responsible and mindful; what an esteemed neighbor to have indeed!

“Greetings, good sir!” My old acquaintance responds to my chirp at once, his wide eyes turning to meet my gaze, and he greets me with his many teeth, like humans often do -they call it a _smile_. To return the curtsy and commemorate our joyful reunion, I shall quote a heartfelt Shakespearean passage; after all, humans hold the Bard in high esteem, I’ve gathered.

“ _Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white,_

_Nor praise the deep vermilion of the rose;_

_They were but sweet, but figures of delight_

_Drawn after you, you pattern of all those_ ”

This so happens to be my beloved’s favorite verse as well, and it resounds so lyrical, so mellifluous into the amber hues of afternoon. But hark, with her call I must depart, catching spring dew and blossoms on my way! My heart, so small you might be, yet you enclose endless oceans and a million stars to harbour my love; across continents, through seasons, over the highest tides and shaded by the flowers, my dearest is so sweet. To praise her is to praise life and joy themselves, and to her side I shall flee, crowned with tangled sunbeams, offering her tender words, enclosing her into the warmth of my feathers. ‘Tis no secret, after all, that all Spring whispers are of Love.

~**~

Incheon International Airport is crowded and lively as ever, the vast halls buzzing with chatter and shuffling footsteps, alongside luggage being dragged across the sterile floor, and with the occasional laugh of a joyful reunion or a child’s cry ringing above the white noise, mixing with the announcement of the boarding flight. Sunlight flows into the large structure in abundance, the white surfaces reflecting it further inside the open space, casting a shimmering haze around the glass panels near the ceiling. The air is crisp and cool, scented faintly of perfume, and if you look past the bright signs and poised stalls lining the hallways, high above the large maps marked with helpful arrows, the metal and glass construction seems so much more serene, standing still and unchanging, in spite of the commotion different people build inside it each day. There is a bittersweet touch to every airport, and it is truly impressive how the ambience doesn’t change across the world; people saying hello, people saying goodbye, that’s what airports are made of.

As an experienced traveller, he doesn’t loiter around inside the spacious common areas, navigating expertly past the picture-adorned walls, towards the exit. Towing his heavy luggage amidst businessmen, tourists and families, he weaves through the crowd with a spring of anticipation in his step, and the unnoticed yet evident ease of familiarity in his smile. He has trodden this distance so many times already, similar open spaces everywhere he’s been echoing the bubbling voices of travellers, seemingly imprinted like a distinct language to his ears. His heart starts beating a little faster, to match the hopeful tapping of his shoes with each quick step, nearing and breaking past the threshold of the last glass sliding doors, bright light instantly flooding his vision.

The difference against his skin is noticeable once he steps outside, into the open air of his home country; there is a brisk humidity that welcomes him in the shade, but the sun is bright and the sky is clear beyond the Terminal, so he takes a moment to push his sunglasses up his nose. The air smells of city life and urban hassle, and it feels less artificial on the skin, the lingering cold of winter blending into the sun of early March and turning so mild that it disappears completely when you’re standing in the sun. Echoes of traffic and morning rush hour accompany the busy murmur of the airport, tall buildings casting distant shades against the skyline.

He checks his wristwatch on his way to the bus stop, making sure he still has time. He gets a bit distracted while following behind a little girl with a Hello Kitty suitcase, internally cooing at the cute details for the while he is caught in the fluid crowd, and he almost walks past the limousine bus he’s planning to ride as a result, but he catches the sign out of the corner of his eye and approaches the bus stop just in time, saving himself the trouble of shuffling back and forth like a fool, searching for the bus he just passed by.

Once his luggage has been loaded on the bus, he finds himself a window seat and gets comfortable, with his stylish backpack and the single shopping bag containing his numbered, self-indulgent duty free purchases in his lap; he snaps a picture of them idly, rearranging them a bit here and there to get a decent angle of the inanimate objects, until a young woman takes the seat beside him and he discreetly tucks his phone and his social life away. As the bus stirs away from the ever busy sidewalk and follows the line of slowly departing vehicles, his overnight flight starts catching up to him --which is not entirely surprising--, and a lethargic feeling that resembles comfort creeps up his skin, dulling his senses, until he dozes off against the window without noticing, his sunglasses blocking the harshness of the sun, the wheezing of the engine further lulling him to sleep.

By the time he stirs awake from his little nap, they’re already driving in the streets of Seoul, the bus being a bit more lively but still relatively quiet, passing by tall skyscrapers of glass, glinting in the sunlight to impress the beholder. Baekhyun rubs the corner of his eye under the frame of his sunglasses, while his other hand reflexively gathers close the things he has precariously balanced in his lap, his slouching body shifting to sit upright and proper in his seat. Everything feels sore, from his neck down to his calves, and his eyes sting slightly, dry and red-rimmed, but he manages to keep himself awake for the rest of the bus ride, gazing at the old and new shop fronts splashing colour against gray, and at the chirpy crowd outside, city dwellers who are basking in the carefree rhythm of a sunny Saturday. Everything looks so vivacious and exciting, calling to him with a beguiling intrigue like sirens, but all he ultimately wants at the moment is a comfy bed, a bowl of homemade food and a shower, some peace and quiet, and a bit of privacy. He will have plenty of time to explore the city anyway.

_I’m back._

~**~

Take it from a poor soul withering in the sun; when you’re sleep-deprived, hungry, tired and three steps away from a heatstroke, you start wondering what sort of blooming hell on earth Spring is supposed to be. He can feel his youth draining with each step, regardless of the refreshing fest of life unravelling in nature all around him, and the only thing his mind and abused senses can register is the burn of his shoes against his feet, the painful omnipresence of blinding sunlight, and the beads of sweat gathering on his brow. There is not even a soft breeze for consolation as he trudges up the wide tiles of the sidewalk, dragging about eighteen kilograms worth of possessions behind him, his suitcases jumping in his hold whenever they hit a small pebble, tugging at the sore muscles of his arms. The emptiness in his stomach, paired with the ruthless glare of the sun searing him to the bone, cause his knees to buckle every other step, and he contemplates a spectacular surrender; he _could_ let himself collapse on the side of the road in despair and leave it all to fate, although he doubts anyone would find him before he scorched to ashes in such a quiet neighborhood.

Still, it’s getting tempting to test that theory, if only he hadn’t survived a fifteen-hour-long overnight flight just to give up now, when he’s finally so close.

His dramatic tendencies aside --it’s just his brain’s futile attempt to cope with the heat and keep him going out of sheer, near hopeless, commiserating spite--, this is admittedly quite an endearingly picturesque neighborhood. The houses are built spaces apart, with tended gardens surrounding them, their flowers sneaking through the iron fences and adding splotches of fragrant colour against the verdure lining the sidewalk. There are blooming trees and greening bushes adorning each corner, and the streets look well-maintained, clean and tidy. The fast pace of the city doesn’t reach here --neither buses do, much to Baekhyun’s dismay--, the industrial gray and corporate marble undertones are nowhere to be found, and there is so much sky stretching overhead, blue and pale with light. Spring fits this neighborhood like a glove, flattering every asset furthermore, with a budding flower here, a cheerful bird song there. It’s like he has stepped into a different country than the one he’s known all his life, perhaps a foreign city, and not just one blooming side of the suburbs; it feels a little disorienting, because it’s not what he remembers of Seoul, or what he had expected to find here.

Since he has never been around or even near this place before, Baekhyun walks carefully, constantly checking the map on his phone; the last thing he wants is to get lost here in midday heat. There is a small blue balloon on the map, signifying the exact address his grandmother gave him, and his heart flutters with newfound hope when he realizes he’s getting close.

It’s all part of a tentative arrangement.

Not even a week after he broke the happy news to her, that he’d decided to live in Korea more permanently from now on, his grandma came up with an unexpected suggestion to aid his plans like a good, accommodating old lady, asking him if he’d be interested in a housemate; apparently, someone she knows had been looking for one, and though this person is a complete stranger to Baekhyun, his grandma made a very convincing case in their favour, driven by her excitement to have her beloved grandson close to her side of the world again. It was an option he hadn’t really considered before, but the proposal was quite compelling and fit for this transitory period in his life, and deep down Baekhyun trusts his grandmother’s judgement more than his own, so he gave it some thought; all in all, it seemed like a good deal, with low cost living, discreet and possibly interesting company, no worries about finding an apartment and paying insurance in advance for monthly rent, or investing in furniture and all sorts of reinnovations. It is an infinitely better option than moving back into his parents’ home, even temporarily, and it’s not an official contract, which means he can search for his own place and move out if things don’t work out with his so-called housemate, right from the start if he wishes so, since his grandmother personally made a solid, reassuring promise that Baekhyun can move in with her right away if he finds it absolutely _impossible_ to adjust to a shared lifestyle with this person --though she sounded fairly optimistic and confident in her high views of them. It seemed safe and easy enough for Baekhyun to accept the offer.

He is a grown man and it’s a civilized agreement.

Over the course of the following weeks, in the midst of massive packing campagnes and general panicking, Baekhyun tried to gather as much information as possible about the person he’ll be supposedly staying with, starting with every good intention to stalk them online so he’d know what to expect, but their social media presence turned out to be scarce, which is unusual, but no one is obliged to prove their personal life on a virtual level, after all. So Baekhyun had to rely solely on his grandmother’s assurance that she knows the man personally, and he naturally turned to her for all his questions, but, even though her remarks about this stranger had been very fond ever since she first mentioned him, she suddenly opted to stay rather tight-lipped on the matter of Baekhyun’s inquiries, claiming it will be more fun to let him find out in length about said person by himself. After much ferocious nagging from Baekhyun, however, she selectively divulged that this person is not old, though he does have a stable life and a handsome income, he doesn’t have any pets, or any notably idiosyncratic or wild habits --and even though all this is somewhat important to varying degrees, it is not particularly enlightening in a more practical sense, and it has kept Baekhyun’s curiosity itching to no end in the past few days, fueling his impatience; this is quite possibly his grandma’s sneaky way of getting back at him for accidentally breaking her favorite cookie jar when he was seven, but there is no way of proving such ulterior motives on her part. It’s a customised small torture for him to be kept in the dark like this, something his grandma knows well if her cryptic laugh over the phone is anything to go by, but Baekhyun had to inherit his mischievous genes from somewhere, right?

Be that as it may, in all his boiling desire to know more about the man --which he didn’t, in the end--, Baekhyun forgot to ask about more mundane details, like the house itself; it’s obvious it would be big enough for two, and in good condition, but Baekhyun had assumed something along the lines of a large apartment, or maybe a smaller one at some quaint neighbourhood downtown, maybe with an artsy view, or a small veranda full of plants. He certainly did not expect a house in the suburbs, a very fancy one, if it’s anything like the houses surrounding it, and the picture painted before his eyes is a little daunting, maybe, but he wouldn’t say he objects the idea; he can’t deny that deep down he is a creature of comfort.

When he finally arrives at the designated address, huffing and puffing, but with his chin held high in defiance, he checks the map coordinates three times to make sure he’s at the right place. The fence is made of light-colored stone, up to waist-height, and fresh green leaves sprout between the iron bars above it, almost hiding them entirely in the foliage. There is a stone arc over the entrance, the ironwork of the door allowing a peek into the garden; Baekhyun can see soft grass and blossoming hyacinths of various colors, a cluster of cherry trees on the brink of blooming on the left side, and a pathway of stone that leads up to the house. The house itself is largely shielded by the verdure of the fence, private from inquiring bystanders and curious passersby, so all Baekhyun can see are the roof tiles and the corners of the top floor windows, but even that much is enough to make him feel a sudden wave of self-consciousness; is it okay for him to be living in such a large, luxurious house, even though he is practically a stranger to the owner? What kind of person lives in such a house in the first place? Is Baekhyun dressed appropriately, in a pair of light-wash jeans and a white linen shirt? Oh no, should he have brought a housewarming gift, why didn’t he think of that sooner?!

For a moment, hesitation and second thoughts overwhelm his mind, but his exasperated, overheated body makes the decision for him when he rings the bell; he considers himself aware that he is lacking in many areas, but in the grand scheme of things he can’t help his situation much at the moment. He confirms once more the name of the owner, presented in calligraphy underneath the bell button, right next to the set of metallic numbers which indicate the address. _Fancy, but classy._ He waits for a bit, fixing his hair and pulling his luggage upright next to him. He hopes he doesn’t look too wrecked by the heat, he’d like to make a good first impression. He checks his wristwatch and rings again, smoothing his hands over his jeans and raising his sunglasses in his hair, to have an unobstructed view of the front garden; the plants are tastefully arranged and well tended, but there is no one in sight. The man is supposed to be expecting him today, so he should be home, right? Baekhyun’s stomach squirms, whether in hunger or heightened anticipation is hard to tell; the second option is very highly probable, because his fingers keep tapping nervously, too.

He is about to ring for a third time when an unexpected voice interrupts him, and he inhales in surprise, almost coughing up his soul right after.

“Excuse me, can I help you?” a man appears on the stone pathway out of thin air, his words resounding gentle and polite, yet as sudden as lightning and stark as thunder. In the midst of his inconveniently triggered coughing fit, Baekhyun notices that the man is tall, even from a distance, and he has a pair of wide eyes, their expectant gaze clearly focused on Baekhyun; just his luck that he chokes when he finds the first person he has to actually _talk to_ today...Gulping down a proper lungful of air and inwardly nursing his wounded dignity, Baekhyun successfully ends his respiratory riot and manages a small, wobbly smile.

“Hi, I’m looking for Park Chanyeol?” he asks, hoping that his luck is not as terrible as to have disturbed the wrong person in the middle of the day --it’s highly against the odds, he even triple-checked before he rang the bell, but you can never know, Baekhyun has seen some spectacularly astronomical mix-ups in his life. The man approaches calmly, his jean-clad, appealingly tall legs bringing him closer even faster. Baekhyun notices the man is wearing a white t-shirt underneath a black cardigan, and his raven hair is falling slightly messy over his inquiring, almond eyes; he has an effortless, boyish charm about his countenance which is hard to miss, but he looks put together at the same time.

“That would be me” the tall man answers, simple and natural in lifelong practice, with a bewildered little frown rippling his eyebrows. He is standing only a step away from the door now, in clear view, and Baekhyun’s stomach drops, eyes widening in disbelief, utterly stupefied by the man’s words and his appearance up close.

_This...is Park Chanyeol?!_

Baekhyun suddenly feels more overwhelmed than his poor brain can take, and any semblance of common courtesy he’d been maintaining escapes him completely; to say this man is not what he’d been expecting would be the understatement of the century! How can it be him? His grandma is so cruel, not even giving him a hint...He is so young, and so pretty, and so tall --is that even fair, to be blessed so abundantly? Park Chanyeol at first sight is everything and nothing like Baekhyun’s grandmother described, a beautiful stranger who is a little familiar, once upon a fairytale --and mayhaps it’d be futile to deny that Baekhyun had been hoping the man would have a generally pleasant presence, maybe a decent overall appearance too, for aesthetic reasons, but no one ever has realistic expectations of moving in with such a handsome being, on one fair spring day, so he thinks he is entitled to the inordinate fluster bubbling inside of him.

Although he is vaguely aware that he is blatantly staring, his proper upbringing and good manners momentarily forgotten, alongside the cue for social pleasantries and other human functions --like breathing--, Baekhyun naively hopes his stunned reaction is not too obvious; it would be less than polite or flattering, and it’s completely out of character, with a part of his brain hopelessly hibernating because of the intense sunshine. He futilely wishes his grandmother had been merciful enough to prepare him for this in advance, because the shock is just too great and his mind too weak to cope at the moment, so he can only keep blinking blankly in an attempt to confirm that the sun isn’t messing with his eyesight, instead of introducing himself and attempting to be charming and cordial; usually, he is far more fluently sociable than this.

Suddenly breaking the civil stillness between them, the taller man’s eyes widen even more than their original size, seemingly without a cue, revealing their deep brown colour in the sun, with an innocent gleam of anticipation; Baekhyun would be helpless not to find him even a little bit endearing in that moment, despite his daze and though he hardly knows him at all. “Oh! Are you perhaps Byun Baekhyun?” the taller guesses, his voice ringing with excitement, as the beginnings of a smile appear tentatively on his plush lips; he seems to have been expecting an unfamiliar guest by Baekhyun’s name, and he sounds so hopeful that it’d be heartless to deny him. It would be heartbreaking to see those round pink lips curve in a disappointed pout, paired with dimmed eyes and slumped shoulders; everything about him is very expressive, Baekhyun suspects to his own demise, in a naive, honest and positively intriguing way.

The shorter blinks away his tangled thoughts and imaginings in a moment, possessing the maturity required to mentally haul himself out of his shocked state of mind and introduce himself coherently. “Yes, that’s me” he answers, offering a smile in compensation for his lacking decorum, his right hand discreetly rubbing the handle of his suitcase in nervous apprehension; so what if none of this is what he’d been expecting? Here he is, after a life of endless wandering and perfect strangers --who he might or might not have had a crush on at first sight--, so he should know better than an inexperienced youngling. Chanyeol instantly beams at him with many pearly teeth, bright and unreserved, swinging the garden door open to welcome him without hesitation, and Baekhyun squints his eyes a little over his smiling cheeks; did the sun just get brighter?

“Welcome!” Chanyeol says enthusiastically, the rest of his words pouring out of his lips articulately, yet so fast, that one questions if this overgrown human even needs to breathe. “I should have realised sooner, you take after your grandma quite a bit; I’ve known her for years, and I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so exciting to finally meet you! I’m sorry I didn’t hear you earlier, I was working in the garden at the back, have you been waiting out here for long?” His plump lips move nimbly, not missing a syllable in the flurry of words, and Baekhyun is a little entranced by the melodious flow of his smooth voice, until he realises he should be making a response, and he shakes his head to clear the bewitching haze.

“Not really” he reassures the taller, grinning genuinely this time “I just rang the bell”. He hopes his winning smile makes for a good first impression, although he is in no condition to score anywhere near as good as Chanyeol’s mesmerizing presence, full of sunshine and sweet, vibrant smiles.

“Come in” said man invites him with an eager gesture and a brilliant grin; like this, he could pass for twenty years younger than their shared age, Baekhyun absently marvels at the precious combination of genes that has been bestowed upon him --and he thought he looked fairly youthful himself. He lugs his two suitcases after him, one with his backpack strapped across it, lifting them over the small step of the garden entrance with a little effort, and at last he is standing on the right side of the fence, introduced to his new home and housemate. When standing beside Chanyeol, their height difference is glaringly noticeable, but Baekhyun hasn’t always been the tallest in the room, so he doesn’t mind much --aside from the fact that he finds it grossly unjust that Chanyeol is handsome _and_ tall, that is. He makes sure to put forth his most endearing grin to score more cookie points with his new housemate, and the latter readily returns the cheerful mien. “Can I help with anything?” he benevolently offers, shuffling to the door and leaning to glance at the pavement outside, probably expecting to see piled boxes of belongings waiting in line...but Baekhyun hasn’t brought any with him. Chanyeol is visibly perplexed when he turns back to him.

“I only have my luggage, actually” Baekhyun explains, a little timid. “The rest of my stuff was sent to my grandmother’s; I’ll see what I need here and then decide what to bring” he shrugs his shoulders with a meek smile, feeling a bit awkward; he’s been told he looks like a coy child whenever he’s trying to cover up an uncomfortable thought, but it’s not unusual for him to revert back to his childish ways and tricks on a number of occasions, so he doesn’t ponder much on it.

He knows it’s unconventional for someone to bring only their clothes and other absolute necessities when they are just moving in to a new place, but it was a conscious decision to bring so little with him. It’s practical, for one thing, a man by himself can carry only so many things, and for another, it’s out of courtesy; no one wants to see their house being suddenly invaded by someone else’s stuff, even if they have invited him in the first place. Auspiciously, Baekhyun will have time and the chance to settle down at his own pace; he doesn’t want to force himself into commitments.

“Oh, okay” Chanyeol keeps nodding his head like a gullible puppy, his expression a little contemplative but accepting, far from judgemental or prying. He swings the iron door closed with one hand, without asking further questions, and Baekhyun breathes a small inhale of relief, right before Chanyeol returns to his former place beside him. “Shall I help with your luggage then?” he suggests innocently, blinking down at Baekhyun; it’s kind of strange how Chanyeol’s eyes are so wide, so honest and so focused, making you feel like you are the only thing he can ever see when he looks at you. It makes Baekhyun feel more than a little bit enraptured --so he needs a moment to chase down his thoughts before he makes an answer.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it” Baekhyun assures him as unruffled as he can convince himself he should be, pulling one suitcase closer out of habit, with a carefree smile. He has travelled a lot, to many places across the world, and he has learnt to be independent and self-sufficient, even for things as inconsequential as carrying his own luggage; rule number one for packing: don’t make it heavier than you can carry. Chanyeol nods only once this time, less animated than before, and Baekhyun belatedly worries that his constant refusal of any help the man has been offering might seem borderline rude, his chest subtly tightening in uncertainty.

“Let’s get you out of the sun at least, you must be tired” the taller ushers him further into the garden with a smile nonetheless, untroubled by Baekhyun’s underwhelming repartee, and Baekhyun readily agrees to that with a freeing breath and a smile of his own, inwardly rejoicing to finally be able to escape the sunshine. A friendly hand rests on his shoulder to guide him as they start walking down the stone-paved path, but the touch doesn’t last longer than it should to feel welcoming, and it sparks a warm sense of familiarity, slowly blooming between them as they stroll side by side, Baekhyun dragging his suitcases noisily behind him. “How was your flight?” Chanyeol prompts soon enough, his tone kind and friendly. _Oh right, conversation._ Baekhyun is usually good with social interaction, but he is too tired to be charming at the moment. At least Chanyeol is making an effort.

“It was good” he answers comfortably, feeling like he’s talking to an old friend, rather than a man he just met five minutes ago; there’s something about Chanyeol that makes him feel at ease, so he blurts out the next thought that comes to mind unfiltered, even though in retrospect he does not think he is supposed to be this personal so soon. “Touchdown felt a little different, more permanent”

 _Oh,_ he pauses in his step, _it did._ Voicing it aloud, he suddenly realises that this rings more true than he’d thought; the flight was the same as ever, there are hardly any noteworthy differences between one plane and the next, but he had this strange feeling when the plane landed, like a heavy anchor tied him down when he touched the ground. His life used to orbit around the trips he planned, his stay in Korea being the only thing which would always be left unplanned; it might have lasted a week, a month, or even a semester each time, but it was always trivial, unimportant. He always expected the next flight, life went on at the next destination. This time, however, he came to Korea to stay, and here is where his life will be taking place, travelling being the exception and not the rule in his everyday life. It’s a choice he committed to willingly after a long career in travel writing and professional blogging, and he is sure he won’t be feeling so nostalgic when the wound will no longer be fresh…

“Your grandmother told me you are used to travelling a lot” Chanyeol interrupts the silence before it stretches too awkwardly, pulling Baekhyun out of his thoughts. Baekhyun feels a surge of embarrassment cascading down on him instantly, realising he’s been standing rooted on the path like a breathing statue after he just shared something so personal with a man who’s still a practical stranger; does Chanyeol even know of his years as a travel blogger, anything of his life in general, or did his grandmother keep the mystery intact for both? Baekhyun blinks at the taller, who doesn’t look surprised or bewildered, showing only polite, genuine interest in his large eyes --and he appreciates the considerate use of present tense in Chanyeol’s observation, softening the inevitable blow of reality. However much Chanyeol does or doesn’t know about him, he certainly knows how to be nice.

“It was part of my job” he answers simply in the end, a small sense of fluster still lingering, so he keeps the mention brief, biting his lip in guilt as he starts walking again, and Chanyeol follows his example. Baekhyun is far from ready to delve into the impending changes in his life yet, so he decides to change the topic --incidentally participating more actively in their interaction; if only he weren’t so tired, he is much more fun when he is properly rested and awake and his stomach is full. He ought to at least try to engage though, instead of letting Chanyeol shoulder the weight of their first conversation all by himself. “How about you? What do you do for a living?” he asks with interest, conveniently remembering the long list of compiled, unanswered questions about his new housemate that have been vexing him for weeks, his curiosity rekindling; he can get his answers straight from the source now, no need to pester his grandma for ambiguous answers and enigmatic laughs. Chanyeol’s eyes shift to the path ahead of them, the distance short, but they are crossing it slowly, and Baekhyun is grateful for the subtle consideration on this matter too, because he has walked so much already to get here.

“I’m a civil engineer and an architect, I work for a firm downtown” Chanyeol answers smoothly, his amicably smiling lips quirking a little, his eyes dropping to the ground; for the first time he looks a bit uncomfortable, when becoming the main focus of the conversation. _Perhaps he’s a little shy._ Baekhyun nods at the information wordlessly, not entirely surprised; it certainly explains how Chanyeol can afford such a place, and his office job must be what his grandmother meant as a stable lifestyle. He is old enough to have earned a good life through hard work, and Baekhyun doesn’t doubt his professionalism and skill; to be completely honest though, Baekhyun is still a little fazed by Chanyeol’s youthful looks, so he can’t quite picture him in a prestigious office, wearing a suit and tie --but he will probably witness it for himself come Monday morning, and the missing pieces of the puzzle will fall into place for sure.

“But you live here? Isn’t it a bit far?” he asks with a bewildered tilt of his head, hoping he is not overstepping a still vague boundary between them; Baekhyun’s question bears genuine interest, but he is also curious, because he just came from downtown and it’s far, at least forty five minutes by car, maybe more. Chanyeol could probably afford a much more convenient place to stay in the city, instead of commuting back and forth. Chanyeol’s smile twitches at the corner, and Baekhyun unexpectedly finds himself preoccupied with admiring the man’s side profile in the sun, his tall nose and structured cheekbones, his defined jaw and pristine neck; he is quite frankly very handsome, even the large pair of ears that peak under his raven hair only add to his charm. _Hold on, no crushing on your new housemate, Baekhyun, bad, very bad, stay focused._

“I inherited the property a few years ago, and I designed the house from start to finish; I couldn’t sell it afterwards” he explains shortly, raising his chocolate eyes to send the property a fond look which verifies his words, gaze running over the lines of the house with profound understanding and familiarity; it’s a strangely fascinating expression on his handsome face, or it might be just the sun, gliding over his soft hair and dazzling Baekhyun’s eyesight.

The wheel of a suitcase catches on a stone and Baekhyun stumbles forward abruptly, but he saves himself the embarrassment before his misstep becomes obvious with a spectacular fall on his face; he is spacing out a lot it seems, he must be more tired than he’d thought. He needs sleep, he really does. Maybe that is to blame.

“You designed the house? That’s very impressive” he remarks in all honesty, glancing up at the building with renewed interest and tracing the outline with his eyes. It’s an elegant structure, mostly western in design, with many windows and beautiful corners, the garden plants accentuating its nooks and pretty arches. Even though it’s a tall house, with a ground floor and one more floor above it, it doesn’t look massive or intimidating; it is very approachable, warm and welcoming, more pretty than grand. It takes skill to build a house like this, dedication and love, and Baekhyun might be able to see why Chanyeol couldn’t bring himself to sell it once it was finished; it would be a pity if another owner didn’t appreciate it as perfectly in all respects.

“Thank you” Chanyeol accepts the praise with lowered eyes, endearingly bashful, and Baekhyun smiles to himself at the sight; he is so tall and yet he manages to look small when he’s shy. No wonder his grandma is so fond of him, she has a soft spot for cuteness, just like Baekhyun. As if to emphasize Baekhyun’s line of thought, the taller kicks a pebble out of his way begrudgingly as he continues. “It’s too bad I can’t spend more of my time here...” he mumbles, but then he perks up as if remembering something, and he grins brightly at Baekhyun, his mood entirely renewed. “That’s why I needed a housemate, actually. Houses are made to be inhabited, they get worn and damaged if they’re out of use. I had hoped to find someone who would help me keep it in good condition, and your grandmother was very excited to suggest you for that” he explains, his broad shoulders lightheartedly swaying towards Baekhyun before he discreetly skips a step. _How lovely, he is being playful._

Baekhyun’s grandmother did mention Chanyeol’s reasons for needing a housemate over the phone, to keep the house in good condition rather than financial issues, so he only nods at the information he already knows and doesn’t even try to hinder the charmed smile that overtakes his lips. “It’s my pleasure”

They quietly step into the shadow of the alcove embracing the front door, and Baekhyun sighs under his breath at the comforting feeling of shade wrapping over his skin. He brings his suitcases closer carefully, not to harm any of the pretty flowers surrounding the large stone step, and Chanyeol opens the front door as wide as it goes for convenience; he doesn’t need to help with Baekhyun’s suitcases, but he turns around to help bring the heavier one through the door anyway, and Baekhyun doesn’t object this time, out of courtesy. He mumbles his gratitude instead, and this tiny acknowledgement reflects on Chanyeol’s smile in volumes as the taller invites him in cheerfully, and Baekhyun steps inside feeling lighter, in spite of pulling his other heavy suitcase in tow. The door clicks closed behind him, and it takes a couple of blinks till his eyes adjust to the softer light indoors; but once they do, they widen in amazement, because even at first glance, the house is _so beautiful_ inside.

Just at the entrance, Baekhyun is stunned by the carved metal light hanging from the pale blue ceiling, the walls on either side of the hall adorned with beautiful paintings and two tall mirrors, probably masking the wardrobe and shoe racks. Two identical benches of wrought iron and light blue velvet adorn the space with their vintage design, the floor made of polished dark wood, and Baekhyun makes his steps slow and careful in awe. He can see fractions of reflections, and then open space flooded with light at the end of the hall, but he gets briefly distracted by Chanyeol near him, carefully setting the suitcases aside to give Baekhyun some space; he looks so comfortable and casual in the lavish interior of his home, whereas Baekhyun is almost afraid to step further inside, feeling underdressed.

“Let me show you around” the taller suggests with a friendly smile when their gazes cross, and Baekhyun cracks a reluctant smile in return, obediently slipping off his shoes. They fall untidily next to Chanyeol’s neatly placed ones, and Baekhyun spares them a second look, making a mental note to fix his messier habits from now on, but Chanyeol doesn’t even glance at them, unperturbed by Baekhyun’s habitual behavior. The shorter also notices a bit absently that Chanyeol is handsome in every angle, the way his face is reflected in each mirror --but his own reflection is embarrassingly flushed, so he quickly pats his strawberry cheeks, while scolding himself to cool down before Chanyeol turns around; is it the heat, the fluster, he doesn’t know anymore! “But first, may I offer you a glass of water? It’s quite hot outside today” the taller man adds as an afterthought to his proposal, as if he could read Baekhyun’s mind just now, and the latter timely flashes an easygoing grin the moment Chanyeol looks over.

“Sure, that would be nice” he accepts the offer easily, and the taller beams, his eyes scrunching a bit at the corners; there are fine, uneven lines curving around them, and his cheeks puff up and twitch a little, but it’s for all intents and purposes a vision for sore eyes --and Baekhyun can personally confirm that, since his eyes are still fresh from the sun and tired from the lack of sleep, he is in expert position to judge that, perhaps not entirely objective, but close enough.

The short house tour begins right then and there, while on their passage to the kitchen with Chanyeol leading the way, and Baekhyun braces himself for the beautiful living spaces that come next, keeping note of as many things as he can manage, in hopes that he may stumble a little less during his adjustment period in the house --furniture has this bad habit of sneaking up on him, especially in the dark.

At the end of the hallway there is a wide, open-plan space, the living room set up on the right and the dining room on the left. Chanyeol leads him towards the dining room first, the oval table of heavy, polished wood surrounded by crafted chairs of the same material and ivory fabric. There is an asymmetrical, artful chandelier of glass and metal hanging over the table, and a crystal vase with oriental tulips, looking beautiful in the light coming in through the large glass door on the wall. It offers a beautiful view of the back yard, of green bushes and tall trees, stone pathways and blooming flower beds, arranged masterfully so that they blend naturally, leaving little spaces for the sun to slip through and play like a kaleidoscope on the ground.

The two men venture to the left again, where the kitchen is, clean and spacious, bathed in natural bright light, and Chanyeol immediately fetches a glass of water for Baekhyun, inadvertently showcasing the tidy wooden cupboards. Baekhyun can’t thank him enough as he quenches his thirst in great relief, emptying the glass in one go, while Chanyeol politely busies himself with the already spotless, dark granite countertops. The rest of the kitchen is equipped with sleek and modern appliances, and it has cosy lights and small decorative elements, like the woven basket of fruit and the small pots of succulents lining the window over the sink, overlooking the front garden where they came from. Looking over the rim of his glass, a warm, bubbly feeling of anticipation begins to shimmer inside Baekhyun’s chest, at the prospect of being allowed to use this beautiful space; he has always wanted a big kitchen to play around in.

“We can move things around if you want” Chanyeol quips, leaning his hip on the edge of the counter, tilting his head and tugging his sleeves up his forearms, towards his elbows, before lacing his arms across his chest. Baekhyun lowers his glass and focuses on the ravennette --and well, his toned forearms don’t go unnoticed either. “It wouldn’t be an inconvenience, if you plan on using the kitchen” Chanyeol reassures him, his welcome extending comfortably, even though they’re hardly above strangers; it catches Baekhyun somewhat by surprise, but he appreciates the gesture greatly, and he inwardly promises to try to be a good and worthy housemate, starting by putting his glass aside neatly and attempting to be more sociable, despite his exhaustion.

“You don’t keep the pans on the top shelf, do you?” he teases, his smile playful yet just a tad bit reserved still, not as confident as he usually carries himself, since they are just starting to know each other and he wouldn’t want to offend Chanyeol on the very first day; it seems safe to say that things are likely to unravel smoothly between them though, because Chanyeol chuckles at his humorous words, a deep, husky sound that bursts from his lips naturally, albeit kept muffled, not to offend Baekhyun in the same line of thought. Baekhyun’s smile curls a bit further at the corners, both pleased and amused by the sight of Chanyeol’s cheeks puffed in a smile, which the taller futilely tries to hide behind his fist as he reassures Baekhyun that the pans are, in fact, stored at an easily accessible height.

They continue with the house tour, properly this time, after Baekhyun reassures Chanyeol that he is not too tired for it; Chanyeol still promises to keep it short and introduce him to his bed soon, and Baekhyun appreciates his kind thoughtfulness, even if it makes it harder for him to stop making googly eyes at the taller. He settles with himself that he is allowed to admire the artwork, he just can’t touch or own it, and that’s fine, he can live with one more innocent crush, which will probably fade and turn to friendship soon, he can feel it.

Chanyeol first leads him to a door on the wall, near the dining room, which opens to a terrace unlike any Baekhyun has seen before; the floor is made of dark stones, the space is sheltered by a roof, and it is surrounded by walls made of the same stone, mostly forming big arches and columns. Images from his trips to Spain and Tuscany flash in his mind, and it’s so picturesque, with the vegetation sneaking on the inside of the walls, verdure covering the lines of the arches to the garden and crawling up the stones, small buds of flowers clustering on the edges and waiting their day; it could be a place of fairy tales, so peaceful and pretty. There is a complete set of an iron table and chairs situated in the middle, lanterns hiding in the corners, and ivy swirling across the ceiling, the ambiance changing according to the hour of day, from calm to bright, mysterious and then companionable. Looking around in awe, Baekhyun can almost feel the warm summer nights and bright spring mornings waiting to unfold here.

“This is my little hiding spot” Chanyeol chuckles shyly, breaking Baekhyun’s reverie, and a small sparrow chirps in the bushes as he speaks, fleeing to the thick foliage of the nearby oak tree. Baekhyun is just as startled by the unexpected sound of Chanyeol’s voice, quiet but noticeably different from before; now that he’s not expressing himself under the full influence of his excitement, neither is his voice laced with nervousness, his natural timbre rings more clearly, sounding deeper, like hot chocolate. Baekhyun whirls around, not realising how far he had wandered as if spellbound till now, and Chanyeol flashes an innocently boyish grin, fractions of sunbeams playing on his handsome features, his tall body leaning against the doorframe, patiently waiting while Baekhyun explored in evident amazement. “You’re welcomed here too, of course; just be careful not to catch a cold” he reassures the shorter, his teeth flashing in a playful smile, and Baekhyun grins, a little wolfish, tempted to use the age card to one-up Chanyeol’s light teasing and see if it would maybe fluster him, but that would classify as flirting, and Baekhyun is decidedly _not_ in position to flirt subtly enough today, so he’ll have to postpone that for another day. For now, he lets himself melt a little at the low, seductive sound of Chanyeol’s deep voice, smooth and very pleasant --one could say, attractive.

The tour continues back inside the house, and their next stop is the living room across the house; it is a wide space, sunlit through its own window to the garden, with a modern flat screen tv on the side, a large couch, and a set of loveseats arranged around the coffee table. The cushions are ivory against the darker fabric of the couch, matching a fuzzy throw blanket, and the coffee table is made of the same wood as the dining table, adorned with crystal ornaments. A beautiful chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the natural light catching in its glasses and spilling in rainbows against the walls; it is the perfect combination of style and comfort, very welcoming and warm --perfect for naps, Baekhyun swoons in his thoughts. It feels like he keeps falling in love with this house at every corner, picturing his life here so vividly, wandering in the spaces, cooking, rushing out the door and coming back after a long day…

The last room on the right is a small corner room, which has been transformed into a library, with tall shelves reaching from floor to ceiling, lined with books tidily. The staircase of dark wood next to the shelves leads to the floor above, and the tiny alcove under the stairs is guised as a small reading nook, with pillows and blankets, and a round helping table standing on the side, with books piled on top and a sole tulip flower adding a stroke of color next to the artful spines of the books.

“You’ve read all these?” Baekhyun asks curiously, running his fingers lightly over the books and examining their titles, from poetry to classic literature, mostly centuries-old authors, and books about architecture; it seems they have some interests in common already, judging by his reading tastes. Some of the titles he recognises, some are foreign, and some he is surprised to find in this collection; his finger lingers when stroking the back of a Neruda anthology, and he smiles to himself in amusement. _Chanyeol seems to be a romantic._ He turns around to find said man putting some of the stray books into place, and the taller smiles bashfully, the cutest dimple appearing on right his cheek; like this, with his dimple and soft strands of hair in his almond eyes, Baekhyun can easily imagine the tender sides of Chanyeol’s soul.

“I’ve read most, not all of them” the taller admits, the tips of his large ears tinting dark pink, eyes rounding slightly when he glances at the object of Baekhyun’s interest. He tries to remain unphased, but his clumsy fingers fumbling to finish up with the books give away his fluster. It’s admittedly cute. “Feel free to borrow anything” he adds as an afterthought, sending a shy smile Baekhyun’s way, and the latter nods thankfully; Chanyeol is doing his best in encouraging him to feel comfortable around the house, and Baekhyun appreciates that.

They climb to the first floor, a common room greeting them at the top of the stairs; on the right, there is a window, narrow and tall, framed with delicate curtains, and a bench with pillows fitted underneath --it looks like a perfect reading spot, cosy and full of light, and Baekhyun hums under his breath when he sees a few books already piled on the edge of the pillows; he would very much like to see how Chanyeol fits himself in such a small, romantic space. There is a set of frames hung on the left wall, pictures of a black, fluffy dog against a mostly-white background, the cute pet posing near someone who is never fully shown; it’s lying on white sheets under a naked long arm, it’s looking straight into the camera while a hand is ruffling its floofy ear. They are an endearing yet artistic set of pictures, and Baekhyun makes a mental note to ask if Chanyeol knows the puppy personally --Baekhyun loves meeting puppies.

The first room Chanyeol shows him is the one across the stairs, which he has turned into his work room; it’s a remarkable, long and rectangular room, with the wall to the garden made of glass entirely, green branches and sunlight reflecting on it almost like they reach inside. This room is a little messier than the rest of the house, papers stacked and rolled on the drawing table, next to pencils and rulers and strange little things, various supplies propped up against the library on the furthest wall to the left, binders and notebooks and compasses scattered. It looks more lived-in, bearing the aura of a perfectly organized and functional mess; Baekhyun guesses Chanyeol is a very busy person and, even though he is clueless on such things, he suspects the taller is legitimately skilled in his profession. He has never seen designs of buildings before, but the lines and numbers overlapping look impressive, more like art and less like science. The wall opposite the glass has a few drawings of coal, bridges and temples from all over the world, each signed with a small inscription of _PCY_.

“Sorry for the mess” Chanyeol grins awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment as he pushes a large box to the corner with his foot, probably meaning to be subtle, but something in there tumbles noisily and he winces; he looks uncomfortable, so Baekhyun opts not to say anything and only grins at the taller reassuringly. He is more than well acquainted with untidiness and dishearteningly grand messes, so Chanyeol’s small disarray of papers seems harmless in comparison. “I’m always working when I’m in here, I hardly ever organize all this” the man keeps apologizing nervously nonetheless, trying to tidy up seemingly at random, whichever thing happens to be closer to his hands. Baekhyun lets him juggle his notebooks and papers in peace, opting to carefully toe around scattered objects to peer outside the glass wall; it looks higher from the ground than it probably is, but the view of the garden is beautiful, and so is the pale, soft light flowing inside.

“Should I stay out of this room then? Because it’s your work…” he asks, and it comes out more timid than he planned, but they might have to set a few rules at first, since they don’t know each other very well, and maybe Chanyeol doesn’t feel comfortable with Baekhyun roaming around his work room. He turns around to look at Chanyeol and the taller blinks his expressive eyes at him, lips quirking in confusion, his head slowly tilting to the side. _He is too tall to be this cute, seriously._

“I can’t imagine why you’d need to come in here, since it’s all papers and rulers, but it’s fine if you want to” the taller answers simply, giving Baekhyun permission to explore all he wants. Baekhyun is surprised by how much Chanyeol apparently trusts him in his house already, but he doesn’t say anything, just nodding in response. The heap of parchment rolls Chanyeol had been building earlier chooses that moment to collapse on the civil engineer’s flailing hands, some even jumping off the edge of the drawing table, and Baekhyun can’t prevent his entertained laugh at the irony; Chanyeol’s eyes are wide in mortification, his cheeks rapidly tinting red. “Ah, there’s no hope, let’s- let’s move to the next room” he suggests, Baekhyun’s laughter quickly dying down; he barely holds in another bout of giggles, seeing how Chanyeol glares at the fallen rolls in disdain, as if they’re traitors, cheeks still pink, his hands fidgeting shyly in front of him.

”It’s okay, don’t worry” Baekhyun reassures him, crossing the room and gracing his shoulder with a comforting pat, before following the taller out of the room quietly.

Up next is Chanyeol’s bedroom, a very elegant room, furnished with an enormous bed --which is reasonable, given Chanyeol’s height--, with fluffy pillows and a knit blanket adorning the covers. There are two bedside tables, one on each side, with simple yet stylish lamps and a few other personal items tidily placed on them --both of them, even though Chanyeol lives alone. Chanyeol doesn’t mind showing Baekhyun his long and narrow walk-in closet, or letting him out on the balcony, which is right above the veranda Baekhyun fell in love with downstairs; the vines reach here to curl around the iron trim on the edges of the balcony, and the view is mainly to the side and the back garden, but if Baekhyun leans over the opposite edge, he can see the budding cherry trees in the front garden as well. There is a double swing here, its pillows striped in white and blue, and a small table with a small pot on top; it looks like a baby lavender plant. Baekhyun, with his penchant of touching pretty things, can’t resist caressing the silky white and dark blue curtains on his way back in, discreetly stroking their luscious material, smiling as it slips under his fingers smoothly; small details like this go a long way when it comes to a nice house.

There is a beauty table with a mirror over it next to the balcony doors, expensive bottles of cologne and a few other personal products and decorations arranged on it, amongst them a framed picture of Chanyeol with two smiling women, one on either side; given how comfortable they look so close to each other and their faint resemblance, Baekhyun assumes they are related, but maybe he should ask about Chanyeol’s family some other time, when he will be able to pay the appropriate amount of attention. He is more than sure his grandma has already told Chanyeol everything there is to know about his family in return; all grandmothers are like that. So Baekhyun casually asks about the gorgeous fluffy blanket on Chanyeol’s bead instead.

Chanyeol is more than willing to answer as he can best, but halfway through listening to him, Baekhyun’s eye catches a narrow, tall display resembling a bookcase near the corner; what really piques his interest is that on each shelf there are no books, but a different version of a rilakkuma teddy bear, looking squishy and in perfect condition. _How cute._ Instinctively drawn to them, he trots closer to have a proper look at the collection of stuffed toys in amusement --some of them are limited edition, very hard to find--, and they all look so pretty and soft, that he wishes he could befriend them. He turns to Chanyeol with round eyes, brows raised in excitement and admiration.

“You collect rilakkumas?” he asks with interest, his smile turning mischievous on his lips; Chanyeol is full of surprises, first his books and now this small collection. He would have never guessed that the taller would have such a hobby, at his age and social status, but Baekhyun is not one to judge; in fact, he finds it so endearing, he kind of wants to pet the cute bearies and their owner alike. Chanyeol chuckles quietly, his hands linked behind his back, his feet shuffling bashfully, the perfect picture of childish coyness, as he gives Baekhyun the tiniest nod.

“I would be embarrassed of them, if I weren’t proud of my little collection” he answers with a satisfied little smile, his cheeks being dusted pink when he looks at Baekhyun. He is so transparent and he looks so small, that it makes you want to hide him in a blanket fort, despite his age and impressive height. Baekhyun has the next best solution.

“Actually” he quips “I have a korilakkuma travel buddy; I go everywhere with her” he admits with a bright smile; he is very excited with Chanyeol’s hobby, because that makes him the only person Baekhyun wouldn’t feel ashamed to introduce his korilakkuma to. Aeri was a gift from his best friend Kyungsoo, when he first started travelling, and Baekhyun got used to bringing it with him around the world, for company, something familiar no matter how far he went. He even brought it with him today, stuffed in his suitcase downstairs, included in his necessities as always. The taller’s eyes widen in shock for a moment, Baekhyun’s answer being obviously very far from what he might have expected; and then they both break out in peals of laughter, like two peas in a pot, any built up awkwardness dispelling. Baekhyun has never felt so close to someone so soon before, but it’s kind of nice.

What was planned as a short tour to the en suite bathroom turns into Baekhyun fawning over every detail he lays eyes on, standing in the centre of the room and staring at the impressive, lush interior. The lights sparkle on the marble floor and over the lustrous white porcelain of the bathtub, glass and mirrors reflecting fluffy towels and golden trimmings; even the pale wood of the cupboards under the washing basin is the most harmonious choice for the room. There is a pretty orchid flower near the window over the bathtub, which overlooks the front garden, the shadows of the little curtains dancing on the edge of the tub. Everything looks so clean, sparkly and beautiful, so comfortable that Baekhyun wouldn’t mind spending hours and hours in here. Chanyeol really has a good sense of style, and Baekhyun is not shy to let him know his mind --and he notices Chanyeol tends to be a bit bashful in the face of compliments, or when the conversation revolves around him, which really tugs at Baekhyun’s heartstrings.

The guest room, which will be Baekhyun’s room from now on, is the last part of the house remaining to see --after Chanyeol manages to lure him out of the bathroom with commendable effort. His bedroom has a view of the front garden, with a wide, single bed situated right under the window, the covers matching the curtains in a subtle, luxurious way. There is a large closet with wooden doors that looks tastefully vintage, and a desk with correspondence stationery and a couple of empty notebooks. The narrow library on the wall is decorated with stylish trinkets, but Chanyeol assures him he can move everything around however he likes and bring anything he wants. There is an antique chest on the side, and a full-body mirror, and then there is the door to the bathroom; it is smaller than the one in the master bedroom, but it’s just as lavish, with a marble floor and sparkling lights, a shower with glass doors and a smaller version of the light-coloured, wooden cupboard. It goes without saying that when Chanyeol asks him how he likes the room, Baekhyun is all but hopping on his heels in excitement, delighted he will be staying in such a beautiful room, spacious enough and pretty, and so much cosier than hotels. He is beyond thrilled, because all this is so much more than he had expected!

Chanyeol offers to bring Baekhyun’s suitcases upstairs so that he can settle in his new room, but Baekhyun doesn’t want to burden him; they both prove to be stubborn, so it takes a while of reasoning and polite banter until they agree on bringing one suitcase each in the end --and this time, Baekhyun insists on carrying the heavier one. It’s a notably long climb up the stairs --he counts eighteen of them-- with the strain of his heavy suitcase being hauled up on each step, mindful not to damage the wood, but he makes it eventually, out of sheer willpower. Baekhyun’s body starts remembering just how tired he is supposed to be halfway, and perhaps it shows, if Chanyeol’s compassionate smile ahead of him is any indication; it was nice while he was distracted by the new house and his new room, but now there is nothing other than Chanyeol’s voice, sending uplifting encouragements his way, to keep his mind from the hunger and exhaustion in his system. He honestly feels like curling next to his luggage and pretending to have given up on life for a while, he won’t take up a lot of space on the stairs, he promises.

Chanyeol is kind enough to go slowly and wait for him on each step, cheering him on until they reach the top floor, and then the taller wordlessly takes the suitcase from Baekhyun’s hands and takes it to the room himself. Baekhyun drags his feet on the floor, crawling after him and whining under his breath incoherently, and Chanyeol chuckles amusedly but doesn’t comment on his childish behavior; it was a matter of time till Chanyeol witnessed this side of him anyway, Baekhyun is not ashamed of his inner child.

Or maybe that self-confidence is just his drowsiness talking.

”I’ll be around if you need anything” Chanyeol assures him, discreetly standing by the door for a while before he excuses himself to let Baekhyun rest, smiling at Baekhyun’s million thanks. Baekhyun’s plans are simple; he has about two hours to himself, which he is going to spend very productively in his new room by napping like a hibernating ladybug, and then he’ll have to freshen up and make himself acceptably human, before they head to his grandma’s house for dinner. She insisted to have both of them with her tonight, to mediate and help break the ice --though they seem to be faring pretty well by themselves so far--, while enjoying the company of her beloved grandson and her dear Chanyeol; Baekhyun wouldn’t say no to the homemade food of his childhood in any case. “What do you say we leave for your grandmother’s place at five? I’m driving us there” Chanyeol suggests, and Baekhyun is more than happy to agree, because he absolutely _cannot_ survive any other means of transport for today.

”Yes please, let’s do that” he affirms eagerly, eyes wide and hopeful, and Chanyeol lets out a short chuckle, nodding once before he turns around to leave. Baekhyun returns his full attention to the increasingly opinionated over the years zipper of his suitcase, tinkering to open it in search of a clean and comfortable change of clothes to sleep in, his eyes stinging and watering and making things more difficult. But, while he is kneeling on the floor in front of his suitcase, muttering pleas for it to cooperate impatiently, a different thought hits him and he springs to his feet in an unexpected burst of energy, running to the door. “Chanyeol!” he calls after the taller, anchoring himself on the doorframe and using his momentum to turn in the direction Chanyeol left; and he caught him just in time it seems, the man turning wide, alert eyes to look at him from the top of the stairs, one foot already one step lower. Baekhyun just can’t wait any longer for this. “How exactly _do_ you know my grandma?”

~**~

The mystery has been solved.

After Baekhyun’s extensive inquiry --over the years, he has perfected infallible methods for his purposes, which include whining, pouting and firing fifty questions a minute--, he has finally managed to unveil how Chanyeol and his grandmother are acquainted, piecing together a coherent and detailed picture of the case over the course of the yesterday evening.

Apparently, Baekhyun’s grandmother knew Chanyeol’s grandmother, when the two of them were still young little ladies. Ancient history reports mention them as inseparable friends, who were close until their marriage; Baekhyun’s grandmother moved to the countryside then, close to where his parents live to this day, and the two women lost touch. Years passed, until grandma Byun was widowed and she decided to relocate back to the city --ever the independent and fearless spirit, qualities which her grandson has undeniably inherited. Once she settled there, she searched for her old friend and, eventually, the two women were reunited. Grandma Byun and grandma Park spent their next years as the cutest pair of elderly best friends, until grandma Park’s passing, a few years ago. Baekhyun’s grandmother has known Chanyeol ever since he was a chubby four-year-old, and she was basically a second grandmother to him, which explains why they are so fond of each other; they never lost touch, and grandma Byun was delighted when the opportunity arose to introduce Chanyeol to Baekhyun. It is beyond a single doubt that, had his parents visited his grandma in the city more often, Baekhyun would have met Chanyeol decades ago, and they would have had their fair share of playdates. _Better late than never_ , his grandma quipped, positively delighted.

While thinking of all these revelations from last night’s dinner, Baekhyun gets dressed for his first meeting with his new senior editor, as a novice junior editor. He managed to score the job before moving back to Korea, skyping his interviews at ungodly hours in hotel rooms halfway across the world, and he will be starting as soon as possible, hence the meeting on his second day of being in the country. He has already exchanged a number of emails with his boss, a man named Kim Joonmyun, but he has yet to see him in person, conducting his interviews with human resources staff; he seems nice though, always polite and helpful in his emails, so Baekhyun hopes for the best. Employment has always been a challenge for him, but this job will probably offer some stability in his life.

Baekhyun naturally wants to make a good first impression, so he smoothes out his clothes and checks himself in the full-length mirror one more time, inspecting his appearance; he is wearing a baby blue button-down, tucked into polished black jeans, a vintage wristwatch with black leather band, and he has a pair of black Gucci shoes in mind to complete the outfit. He looks a bit formal for the time of day, but it should be fine; they are meeting at an expensive uptown restaurant for brunch, and Joonmyun seems to be a rather refined, wealthy gentleman, so Baekhyun hopes the effort he has put into his outfit will be appreciated. He does have a public image to uphold as well, after all.

Smoothing his hair, neatly parted on the side, and spritzing on his favorite cologne, Baekhyun deems himself ready. Here he is, dressing up for a meeting with his boss on a precious sacred Sunday, whilst he’d rather he were sleeping, like every other person on the weekend; he is also still sleep-deprived and disoriented from his trip back, so he could use a few more minutes to snooze. Then, he would have loved to spend the day delving into much more relaxing activities, unpacking, talking to Chanyeol, submerging his weary body in a hot bath; but all those plans have to be put on hold, in favor of ensuring his monthly income. Adulting is hard, and depressing.

Although work meetings on the weekend are outrageously blasphemous, Baekhyun will admit that this feels a bit less nerve-wrecking than marching into the editor’s office on Monday morning, followed by the curious eyes of his new colleagues as he repeatedly rehearses in his head what he should and shouldn’t say; Baekhyun is not used to an office working environment, and thankfully, he won’t have to get used to such dullness and pressure, since he can work from home. He’s off the hook, even for the meetings with his boss; Joonmyun might be a posh bon vivant and a widely respected, successful editor, but he is following an alternative approach to corporate hierarchy, which requires them to meet in more casual surroundings and get to know to each other in friendlier terms, to ensure more effective and open communication between them. If Baekhyun didn’t have to confront his alarm on a Sunday morning, it would have seemed like the most brilliant and affable idea any businessman ever had.

With his shoes in hand, Baekhyun skips down the steps, feeling more optimistic at the sight of the sunlit space on the ground floor, the day starting brightly with a view of the peaceful garden out the window and the melodies of bird songs in the air. It’s nice to live in the city without the stifling qualities of a city. He still gets a little fascinated with the house as he passes by, not completely used to it yet, so he admires the rainbows reflected on the wall by the chandelier in the living room, forgetting the tiny detail of a housemate’s existence, until Chanyeol appears in the kitchen, moving about and catching Baekhyun’s eye; and Baekhyun finds himself staring --again.

In case it hasn’t been made clear already, Chanyeol is gorgeous, by every and any definition of the word. He is the kind of man who looks equally handsome in a dashing suit or a pair of worn sweats, making you weak in the knees whether he is frowning or smiling, charming you effortlessly to the ends of your wits and back. His tall stature is impressive, even in the loose sweatpants and trampled t-shirt he is wearing this morning, his shoulders broad, hips more tapered. He must be fresh from sleep, a pillow mark still embedded on his left cheek; his raven hair is fluffy, hiding his elvish ears, and his doe eyes are slightly puffy and unfocused, oblivious to Baekhyun’s presence just on the other side of the kitchen island. He looks so soft, his plush lips pouting sluggishly at the work of his fingers over the counter, as he nimbly peels and breaks a banana into pieces. He has various ingredients gathered in front of him, preparing breakfast, reaching for something every now and then -- _and hello there, biceps._

Heavens help Baekhyun and his fraying sanity.

Even though Baekhyun can’t be late for the first meeting with his boss, he reasons he can spare a few minutes of morning conversation with his housemate --especially when it involves staring at Chanyeol while he cooks breakfast, which might be Baekhyun’s new favorite pastime.

“Good morning” he hums softly, smoothly sliding onto a highchair on the outer side of the kitchen island, opposite Chanyeol. The taller’s eyes snap up at the greeting, and Baekhyun almost coos at the drowsy smile that appears on his lips a moment later, a dimple denting his cheek.

“Good morning” Chanyeol answers, clearing his throat to fix his voice, even though to Baekhyun he already sounds heavenly, the deep timbre laden with sleep and turning even lower, making Baekhyun’s spine quiver and his stomach squirm. He decides that he likes Chanyeol like this, unguarded from sleep and a little dazed from the sun; he could get used to such mornings. The taller briefly glances down at Baekhyun’s attire and his eyebrow curls, but he returns his large eyes up to Baekhyun’s, before his gaze even remotely makes the latter feel self-conscious. “Wow, you look inhumanly put-together for a Sunday morning” he notes with a husky chuckle, and Baekhyun barely keeps himself from blushing at the subtle compliment and swooning over the counter; that deep voice is teasing his self-restraint more than anyone would suspect, and so, Baekhyun thinks he has found his new weakness, after puppies and sweets. He manages to keep his composer though, and a bright smile blooms across his lips as he comfortably leans forward on the counter.

“I have a brunch date with my new boss” he says, absently wondering to what extent he is supposed to inform Chanyeol of such things, now that they live together. He should probably make an effort to announce his schedule at first, until Chanyeol gets a general grasp on his routine, and then he can reserve announcements only for special outings; he guesses it would be awkward, going in and out of the same house with no clue of each other’s presence or absence. Swiftly catching the spoon before it tumbles inside a jar of honey, Chanyeol nods in understanding, too sleepy and naive to realize that Baekhyun is going to work on the weekend, so it makes perfect sense to him.

“I was about to start with breakfast, if you’re interested” the taller invites kindly, his long fingers toying with the spoon absently, innocent eyes gazing at Baekhyun with hope; and Baekhyun would have loved to stay for breakfast with this giant puppy more than anything else, but his adult responsibilities won’t allow it. Maybe another day.

“No time” he checks his wristwatch with a displeased pout and sends Chanyeol an apologetic look; the taller nods in understanding and turns around, busying himself with retrieving something from a nearby drawer to conceal his disappointment, but his drooping shoulders give it away. Baekhyun feels guilty, his fingers fidgeting with his watch while he’s trying to think of a way to alleviate the rejection, then a sudden thought flashes in his mind and he perks in his seat. “But I’d be interested in dinner?” he suggests, giggling under his breath when Chanyeol turns around on his heel so dizzyingly fast, clearly intrigued. “I need to defend myself against some outrageously slandering accusations my grandma made last night” Baekhyun adds, his grin curving downwards into a troubled frown.

He should have expected it, really; family never fails to embarrass you, even when they have the best of intentions at heart, and Baekhyun’s grandma knows too much about him for his own good. A few selected childhood tales were enough to reduce Baekhyun into a mortified, blushing puddle in the corner --he was an energetic and curious child, he’s been involved in more than enough importunate moments in his life--, but his grandma wouldn’t heed to his pleas to stop. Thankfully, Chanyeol seemed just as embarrassed about his own escapades being exposed by Baekhyun’s unrepentant grandma; there is just no stopping that woman. Compromising childhood narratives are not the ideal start one would have hoped for when meeting someone, but well, it wasn’t disastrous either. In retrospect, it made them feel more comfortable with each other, rooting the seed of familiarity --but Baekhyun would like to set a few things straight nonetheless. Chanyeol seems to think so for himself as well, mirroring Baekhyun’s frown in thought.

“I could do the same” he agrees, and Baekhyun instantly breaks into a wide smile; it looks like they have dinner plans then. Chanyeol similarly smiles, showcasing two rows of perfect teeth and a slight twitch of his right eye, which makes it even more genuine. Baekhyun can’t wait to witness more such pure expressions and adorable quirks, get the original rendition of Chanyeol’s earliest adventures, and have easy conversation with him, getting to know him over delicious food and little jokes. They spend a few moments just staring and smiling dumbly at each other in contented stupor, until Baekhyun remembers his plans in the more imminent future, and he flinches out of his daze first; he just has to wait until tonight, then he can legitimately stare all he wants.

“Okay then! See you at dinnertime, housemate!” he calls cheerfully, hopping off his chair and scampering to the door like a skidding, stumbling corgi --he has always had a unique running style, it’s almost trademark. Chanyeol chuckles behind him, presumably at the sight of him making his hasty escape, and Baekhyun bites his lip in embarrassment but laughs at himself as well; it’s been less than twenty four hours and his peculiarities have already started showing. At this rate, they’ll be friends in no time. Maybe his grandma was right this time as always, or maybe it’s a gene that makes their families blend well; either way, Baekhyun can’t complain.

As he picks up his sunglasses from where he left them yesterday and pockets his phone, he is still smiling, feeling at ease, in spite of the big day waiting ahead. The sun is blinding outside and a newfound surge of energy flows through his body, the picture of Chanyeol’s smile still dancing in his thoughts as he steps into the sunlight, his mind already anticipating dinner. There is always a sweet thrill in meeting new people, new ideas, new life stories and aspirations, and Baekhyun can be a very curious soul; there are a lot of things he’d like to ask Chanyeol, and many small truths he’d like to uncover about the shy giant. He collects the little traits of people he has met, and he suspects over time Chanyeol will come to be the mother of pearl amongst them all.

“Have fun” said man’s deep voice calls after him, belatedly due to his sleepy state of mind, and Baekhyun chuckles in amusement as he closes the front door behind him. _Cute._

~**~

The pencil glides over smooth paper on the border of the metallic ruler, a gray line thin as a hair’s breadth denting the flimsy surface, intersecting with other lines, drawn in ink. He stops the line right on the marked dot, his fluid movement coming to a sharp stop, just as the _Flower Duet_ talks of green domes, blooming jasmine and entwined roses; he likes listening to opera music while working, it sets his pace and keeps him focused. He can sometimes feel himself humming along under his breath, but his voice is nowhere near as melodic and certainly far from soprano quality, so he listens quietly this time, the notes flowing in his ears like the sunlight through the window. It helps him forget he is trapped in an office of glass and steel, in some skyscraper downtown.

A knock on his door is heard over the quiet music, probably one of his colleagues searching for him --please, let it not be paperwork, because he’d been struggling to finish a pile of it till last Friday, and he is not mentally ready for the next round just yet. He glances at the clock on the wall and he feels mildly shocked it’s been so long since he last checked it; it seems he lost track of time, not for the first time in his life, and it’s already supposed to be his lunch break. It’s amazing how much faster minutes run when he’s designing, and how cruelly they avenge in sluggishness when he has to deal with contracts.

“Come in” he calls, lazily taking off his earbuds and setting them aside with his pencils and rulers. His eyes sting slightly and he rubs them gently with two fingers, his focus needing a few moments to readjust in the abundant light of midday flooding through the windows; he should probably rest for a bit, take a break from thin lines and tiny numbers that have been swarming his vision for hours. Maybe he would enjoy some food too, now that he thinks about it.

The door opens to a silent hallway, without the usual chatter of employees and clicking of keyboards invading the office, and it’s his friend Sehun who struts in confidently, holding two paper bags. He is dressed like a supermodel, in tailored slacks, leather shoes, an impeccably pressed shirt and an expensive watch, with the height and facial features to pull off the simple yet elegant style. He is a few years younger than Chanyeol, with a sharp and handsome appearance, nearly white blond hair which is always styled one way or another, with dark eyes and a confident aura which fascinates most people; but under all his charm, he is a playful, whiny child, who likes new tech toys and expensive things, far less intimidating and more approachable than he seems.

Sehun is one of Chanyeol’s closest friends, despite the couple of years’ age gap between them, and they have been friends for years, ever since they collaborated on a project when Sehun first started his internship as an interior design architect at the firm, where Chanyeol had already been working for a couple of years, but his position was further down the company’s hierarchy than his current one. They became close over complaints, jokes, headaches and coffee, while working endless overtime on that first project, until they succeeded, both having a habit of chasing perfection. Sehun is very artistic, despite giving the impression of a cynic, and his favourite thing in the world is his small fluffy dog, Vivi, in spite of his attraction to material things; he takes his coffee with too much sugar, he hates ungrateful people, and he can recite Homer by heart. Chanyeol is not sure how he came to know most of such little things he knows about Oh Sehun, given how private he is as a person --and Chanyeol is no less introverted either--, but sometimes friendship comes in mysterious ways, and Sehun is the kind of person you’d want to keep in life.

They still work together occasionally, depending on the company’s wishes, but they keep in touch regardless; it’s not unusual for Sehun to stop by Chanyeol’s office to rant about his current woes --even though they’re not related to work, more often than not--, call him at random times of the day and send him pictures of his bichon like a proud parent of that little diva, or make plans to drag Chanyeol away from the comfort of his home on their free evenings and weekends. They are very different, Sehun being much more decisive and adventurous than Chanyeol’s obliging, introverted personality, but somehow they make good friends.

“I bought you something from the restaurant on the second floor” Sehun says brightly in lieu of a proper greeting, jiggling one of the paper bags with a mischievous poker face; he is always unconventional like this around people he is comfortable with, sometimes with his clients too, and Chanyeol is not sure if the younger is severely inept to social norms, or if he’s a genius and ignores them on purpose to avoid awkwardness. Chanyeol is always cross with awkwardness, it keeps tripping him over his feet. With a hum of approval, Chanyeol disentangles himself from his work by the designing post, making sure nothing will fall off or smudge during his break, while the younger sits in his regular seat on the side of Chanyeol’s desk and starts pulling lunch boxes out of the bags with care, setting aside the files and rolls of paper he finds in his way as if he knows what they contain and in what order to store them; it’s an effort at least. Chanyeol shakes his head at the assured attitude, but he is still smiling as he takes a seat in his chair behind the desk, appreciating Sehun’s journey twelve floors down to buy food for them, unprompted.

“Thanks, Sehun” he says, accepting the fork the younger offers him alongside a cheeky smile that slightly curves his lips; it is thus safe for Chanyeol to conclude that Sehun is in a good mood today. His usual straight face has changed into a joyful mien, and he even decided to treat Chanyeol instead of pestering him to go out and buy expensive ramen for him; maybe he’s had a good weekend, or maybe that barista he’s been eying recently smiled back this morning, who knows. In any case, Chanyeol is not complaining; his friend’s good mood is rubbing off on him, and the two of them enjoy their delicious lunch in comfortable silence for a while.

“So, what were you up to this weekend?” the blond prompts, before devouring the next scoop of tender chicken, his inquiring eyes staying glued to Chanyeol as the taller swallows his mouthful and hums. He takes a moment to pick on the remaining contents of his lunchbox, thinking about his weekend’s highlights --he is not the type to have news worth sharing frequently, but plenty of things have happened in the past two days, which are bound to bring a number of changes in his life, so it should be worth to share. Chanyeol decides to start with the most exciting and terrifying news headline.

“My new housemate arrived” he informs Sehun casually, pinching a piece of salmon with his fork, which he ends up chewing for longer than is probably required. He can pretend that the changes another person brings into his home is not something that freaks him out, but it does; Chanyeol is a creature of habit, a very private and reserved one at that, with anxiety and insecurity levels off the charts, and all that package doesn’t go well with strangers, even pretty ones. When he puts it like that, he doesn’t even understand why he decided to look for a housemate in the first place, but here he is, praying to cherry blossoms that it will work out. Maybe he hadn’t properly realized it until he saw Baekhyun at the door, his knees almost giving out in panic when the reality of the situation dawned on him --and Baekhyun looks nothing sort of intimidating, so it’s clearly not his fault.

Chanyeol thinks perhaps this is a good chance as any to let it all out and have the scheduled upcoming meltdown right here right now, because if anyone can help, it would be Sehun, with his level-headed and objective advice on life --primarily, other people’s lives.

The younger had been aware of Chanyeol’s plans to get a housemate from the start of course, and he encouraged him, seeing a chance for Chanyeol to become more social; he even offered his extensive advice on the pros and cons of living with someone, since Chanyeol has had little experience with cohabitation whereas Sehun spent all his university years with a roommate. In spite of letting Sehun know he eventually found a housemate, however, Chanyeol intentionally hadn’t mentioned when said housemate would be arriving, because he’d like to think he is a precautious man, and if Sehun had known about it, chances are his benevolent curiosity would have led him and Jongin to Chanyeol’s doorstep on the very first day of Baekhyun’s arrival, for an entirely _coincidental_ visit, as you can imagine. Chanyeol knows his friends well enough to find them predictable in their unpredictability.

The younger’s eyes widen with interest at once, and he perks in his seat, licking the corner of his thin lips. “Oh, right!” he exclaims, realisation flashing in his eyes as he wiggles in anticipation “What’s he like?”

“Um...he’s nice, actually” Chanyeol says cautiously after a reasonable momentary pause; he'd been expecting a torrent of questions, to be honest, it’s unlike Sehun to be this taciturn on matters that pique his curiosity --it’s part of the reason why his pairing up with Jongin is detrimentally devastating to whichever poor soul they target. Sehun keeps staring at him expectantly after that, so Chanyeol stares back. He is probably missing a cue.

”And?” Sehun stresses, dark eyes hard as stone. _Oh, right, more information._

”He’s _really_ nice” Chanyeol says rather lamely under pressure, but that’s honestly the first thing that comes to mind about Baekhyun --that and a smile, maybe. It’s unavoidable, considering the last time he saw the man he was barely awake, chewing his breakfast sleepily, chopsticks resting on his pouty lips because he forgot to lower them to his plate again, eyes a bit puffy, hair messy, rectangular smile sweeping you off your feet. Chanyeol’s lips start curling in a smile just at the memory; there is something very charming in the way Baekhyun looks so innocently cute and temptingly manly at the same time. “He can eat spicy things without batting an eye, but he hates cucumber” Chanyeol giggles, remembering how offended Baekhyun seemed at the idea of adding it in the salad when they were preparing dinner together, and how he declared that if Chanyeol ever manages to feed him that abominable vegetable, it’d be the surest and most heinous way to kill him.

Starting on that small note, Chanyeol comes up with more and more disjointed little things to share about his housemate, and, as he retells a few weekend moments with Baekhyun to Sehun, unconsciously he starts feeling progressively excited, and his ability to form sentences longer and faster than bullet trains kicks in; he ends up gushing about small things he has learnt or noticed about the man, commenting in his own enthusiastic narrative every now and then, to check off some requirements Sehun had set as ‘good roommate qualities’ beforehand --Baekhyun passed with flying colors, needless to say; he is polite, respectful, mindful and willing to help, and he is definitely not a serial killer, to name a few. The only thing Chanyeol is not sure about yet, is Baekhyun’s degree of tidiness, but, even though he seems to have a few messy habits, Chanyeol doesn’t think he minds; a bundle of small shoes by the door is kind of cute, and the pile of cooking dishes resolves itself by the time Baekhyun is done in the kitchen. So maybe he does things differently, but that’s not necessarily bad; Chanyeol can live with that.

Generally speaking, Baekhyun is more bold than Chanyeol is usually comfortable socializing with, but he is funny and lively, genuine and playful, which just might help Chanyeol warm up to him without the process being traumatic. He has spent a big part of his life abroad, documenting his travels in a very successful blog, and all that writing experience has secured him a fresh job as an editor, which he can do from home. He still has social obligations though, which kept him busy on his first weekend back in Korea; the contrast to Chanyeol’s life of invariably minimal plans was an uncomfortable jab to Chanyeol’s tentative optimism about getting closer to Baekhyun, but the man didn’t fail his hopes by abandoning him in a one-sided aspiration to get better acquainted. The two of them have shared two genuinely enjoyable dinners and one laidback breakfast, and Baekhyun seems...interesting. He is surprisingly comfortable to be around, he has a wide range of interests, and he comes with an impressive set of skills and life experiences, so their time together has been very pleasant.

Chanyeol looks up after what might have been an uncharacteristically significant while of talking on his part, his food forgotten, only to find Sehun already staring at him with an empty expression.

“I meant what he looks like” he deadpans, and Chanyeol feels like a complete fool; he might have gotten a little carried away there for a bit. He is not used to meeting new people on a personal level, so he didn’t think physical appearance is something that should be mentioned first, but excuse him for assuming his friend wanted to know something that really matters about his housemate, instead of inconsequential details that don’t factor in their cohabitation conditions.

“Oh” he breathes, sensing a light blush rising to his cheeks. Sehun doesn’t seem fazed in the least, slightly raising one eyebrow in nonchalance.

”Just give me his name, but do tell” he instructs, setting his meal aside and picking up his handphone methodically, as if he has a protocol ingrained for situations like this, his moves not faltering once, which gives off an air of efficiency. Chanyeol has no choice but to tentatively share Baekhyun’s name --deep down, he knows he will regret this--, and he lets Sehun type away on his phone, his dark eyes focused on the screen and his eyebrows pulled close in determination; but Chanyeol knows Sehun is all ears, waiting for Chanyeol to elaborate on Baekhyun’s appearance, and he takes a moment to frown at his food and contemplate his answer.

It’s not like he didn’t notice Baekhyun’s appearance; the man is quite stunning, it’s hard not to notice him, even if you try. It’s just that he doesn’t judge people by their looks, and it doesn’t sit well with him to talk about Baekhyun that way; he doesn’t know him that well yet, but he knows there is so much more to Baekhyun than his looks, and it doesn’t seem fair.

“Does he look like this?” Sehun suddenly questions, and Chanyeol is not sure if he took too long to think of an answer or if Sehun is concerningly fast in finding people. He swiftly flips his phone so that the screen faces Chanyeol, and on display is a picture, evidently, from a social networking site, showing Baekhyun in a white cardigan with red hearts, pouting cutely at the camera, eyes bright, only his hair is black instead of ash brown. A small voice at the back of Chanyeol’s mind squeals, but no one ever listens to it. Bold move of Sehun in front of Chanyeol’s salad, but he can’t exactly deny that it’s Baekhyun in the picture.

“That’s him --how did you even find him so fast?” Chanyeol wonders, but Sehun seems satisfied enough with his answer alone, retrieving the phone just as quickly and ignoring Chanyeol’s question in favour of tinkering with the device a bit longer, to unknown ends and questionable intents.

“He’s handsome” he muses in a serious tone, scrolling against the light of his screen, presumably still searching about Baekhyun and snooping in his social media; Chanyeol maintains his own opinion on the matter, which does not allow him to be entirely comfortable with Sehun’s actions, but the younger is not doing something illegal or socially ill-perceived, so he doesn’t scold him. “Oh, he’s successful too” Sehun’s voice sounds faintly impressed, which is not an easy feat, his thin eyebrows arching in admiration. Chanyeol huffs impatiently.

“Why do you have to look online, is it more interesting than what I already told you about him?” he puffs out his cheeks like a petulant child, in hopes of distracting Sehun from his search. The younger glances up at him for a moment, pensive, and then all too soon puts his phone away and picks up his meal again, though it doesn’t look like he intends to take a bite right away.

“So you tell me, what does he look like to you?” he quips, voice lilting sneakily at the end, all his attention focused solely on Chanyeol, with a wolfish grin just for him; he knows Chanyeol turns into a flabbergasted sea turtle when he is made the centre of interpersonal attention, so he is quite clearly trying to pull his leg. Chanyeol gasps, appalled by the cold-hearted betrayal; Sehun heartlessly turned his words on him before he could even blink, and Chanyeol’s intentions unexpectedly backfired, so so badly. _Note to self: find better friends._ He naturally thinks of evading the question at first, but Sehun has that look on his face which threatens endless teasing if Chanyeol refuses to answer, so the taller sighs and relents.

“He’s handsome, I guess” _okay, this might have sounded a bit too nonchalant_ , he inwardly grumbles, turning his attention to his food again and taking a bite, in hopes of getting away with a few vague moments to think of his answer; his time still ends too soon.

“Go on” Sehun urges as if he’s sending him off a cliff and enjoying it, a teasing, lopsided smirk perched on his lips; he sometimes makes Chanyeol envy the peaceful, solitary life of a cactus. The younger makes a point to bend his legs under the chair and lean closer over the desk, as if they’re about to share a secret, and Chanyeol grumbles in discomfort, stabbing his food repeatedly without really realising. Why can’t he talk about grandma Byun’s delicious dinner, or about Baekhyun’s magnificent pasta carbonara for their dinner last night, which is a local recipe he picked up on one of his trips to Italy? He could even talk about the man’s impeccable fashion sense and his polite manners, which turn adorably childish sometimes --but he would prefer talking about the food to be honest, the food is a safer topic of conversation.

But Sehun always gets what he wants, because he is mentally five and he knows of vicious ways to manipulate his innocent, soft-hearted friends, which means mostly Chanyeol. So, against his better judgment and in spite of his tendency to value people for qualities other than their looks, Chanyeol decides to share a few more details he has noticed about Baekhyun’s appearance, or he won’t be hearing the end of this.

“He’s kind of short compared to us” he starts reluctantly, receiving an animated nod from Sehun, encouraging him to continue. “He has a nice figure for his height, a bit curvy, with broad shoulders. He has youthful looks, his cheeks look squishy; his hair is currently light brown, and his lips do this pouty thing whenever he talks…what?” Chanyeol trails off warrily and gives his friend a look, his qualms and reservations heightening unbearably with exponential rates at every heartbeat, once he notices the younger staring at him suspiciously, alarmingly so; he has that glint in his eyes which is never good news and his lips are curled in a strangely predatory grin.

“Park Chanyeol” he starts slowly and deliberately, with mischief in his whispery voice, giving Chanyeol an incredulous yet oddly knowing look; the taller stares back at him, inwardly flustered for reasons he doesn’t even know of yet. He can’t guess why he deserves this look or where this is going, and it’s making him antsy, his anxious nature pushing him to a mildly panicky mortification. Sehun leans so far over the desk that he ends up right in the middle of Chanyeol’s personal bubble across from it. “Is it possible that we have found your _type_?”

_Oh, you mean downright gorgeous, childish but sexy, innocent but naughty, sweet with an edge, and basically perfect? Wait, no._

“You’ve watched too many sappy movies with Jongin” Chanyeol deadpans, pinching the younger’s nose to guide him back in his seat, hearing many whiny complaints of protest; he is relieved this wasn’t about anything that would pose a serious threat to his composure, since Chanyeol has heard of too many similarly privy remarks and he has learnt how to handle them coolly.

Chanyeol is not sure he has a type, not even after all his thirty years of gazing and interacting with fellow humans, though his friends like to tease him about it and speculate outrageous romantic scenarios with literally anyone Chanyeol might happen to exchange civil interaction with, --even the most unlikely of suspects, like the postman, that was a wild theory--, as long as they are of semi-eligible age. No, wait, the theories have stirred towards the concept of a sugar daddy before; they’re just too many and too ridiculous to keep track. Baekhyun had little chances of escaping the radar of the chief instigators --meaning, Sehun and Jongin--, so Chanyeol is not really surprised and he doesn’t pay it much heed, keeping the rest of his opinion to himself.

He might already be a little fascinated and enchanted by Baekhyun’s charms, but that is as far as he is willing to admit; it might as well be that he is just infatuated with the idea of Baekhyun, and his excitement is sparking his interest, which will naturally fade after a while.

Although it seems unlikely.

Sehun plops back in his seat, still protesting about the abuse of his handsome face under his breath, but Chanyeol ignores the childish accusations. “Stop imagining romance stories between me and my housemate, I barely know the guy” he ends the conversation on the topic with the authority his age allows, picking up his fork again and resuming his crushed to bits lunch, a bit more mindful of the time now; his break should almost be over soon.

“Oh, fine” Sehun pouts and stuffs his mouth with food moodily, staying quiet for a while and chewing like a disgruntled kid, his thin face puffed with food bites, his eyebrows deeply troubled. He will get over it, he just takes after his dog a little and they both have this tendency to theatrics, holding their noses in the air until someone scratches their ear and they’ll be suddenly wagging their tail happily again. Chanyeol basks in the blissful silence, mind idly wandering to his upcoming deadlines --until Sehun speaks up again, stealing his attention, voice serious and a tiny bit light with optimistic cheer. “But keep me updated, will you?”

 _Incorrigible._ Chanyeol rolls his eyes.

~**~

It takes less than a week for Baekhyun to adjust to a new routine, seamlessly transitioning into fulfilling his life’s daily requirements and learning to express his unique habits in due time --instead of flaunting his peculiarities around his unsuspecting housemate. Work takes up little of his time, his projects easy since he is just starting, and he is fortunate enough to have the house to himself for the better part of the day; for an experienced explorer like himself, two days are a more than sufficient time frame to become fully acquainted with all the nooks and key points. The house itself is easy to navigate and functional to begin with, full of light and beautifully decorated corners, his appreciation for which he never fails to mention to Chanyeol; his answer always comes in the form of a bashful smile, sometimes with a sweet dimple.

Mid-week, Baekhyun realizes he is unavoidably leaving evidence of his presence behind; his shoes in the doorway, his favorite magazine in the compartment under the coffee table, his brand of cookies in the cupboard, a few books he’s currently reading on the table. He second guesses himself for a moment, but Chanyeol seems cool with it all, even with the messy shoes in the doorway, so Baekhyun doesn’t do anything about it in the end and continues embedding his presence in the house unobtrusively. He had been worried that Chanyeol’s patience and tolerance would extend only so far with the occasional fuss Baekhyun creates in the house, but the man seems to be harmless and obliging to a fault, so the smaller man considers himself lucky. He is very well aware that the older everyone gets, the more particular they become, a little less lenient and forgiving --heavens know how many weird quirks Baekhyun has acquired over the years which he thinks are impossible to part with--, so he could only hope from the start that his idiosyncrasies wouldn’t clash with his housemate’s too much. He often wonders what sort of glorious cake and cookie deities out there have listened to his prayers and graciously answered them, because he’d very much like to honor them with befitting baked goods, for bringing Chanyeol to him.

After Baekhyun has lived a week in Chanyeol’s life, he feels like he has grasped a good sense of it; Chanyeol looks like the routine type, safe and fun within the lines, so Baekhyun has probably seen all the basics. The weekdays start with Chanyeol having breakfast in the kitchen, dressed in varying suits which look inhumanly good on him; honestly, Baekhyun has met some seriously gorgeous people in his line of work, and none of them has made his gut twist so pleasantly when donning a suit. He likes the view so much that he makes an effort to wake up in the morning before Chanyeol leaves, so that he can have breakfast with him, or if he out-snoozes his alarm, to wish Chanyeol a good day at work at least. Be it in grey, blue, black, patterned, or pastel, Chanyeol looks good in his suits like he has just stepped off a runway, the seams falling on his body perfectly, his dark hair contrasting his fair skin; maybe it’s his glorious height and build, maybe it’s the breathtaking little frown of his eyebrows or those strong hands and deep, chocolate voice, or his handsome features and the boyish smile --or maybe it’s the fact that he includes Baekhyun when making breakfast without fail; Baekhyun loves people who feed him by default. In any case, Baekhyun is never disappointed to wake up in the morning, and let it be noted that he is _not_ a morning person.

The afternoon hours are just as interesting inside the house, because Chanyeol is usually back around then, before dinnertime --unless he has to work overtime, in which case, Baekhyun is always duly informed. If Chanyeol is not busy in the garden, he can most probably be found in his drawing room --as Baekhyun has affectionately dubbed the office, which is basically a designing room--, working quietly with classical music playing softly in the background. Baekhyun sneaked a peek inside once curiously, when the door happened to be open --Chanyeol never fully closes doors in the house--, and he was passing by to, um, go somewhere else in the house while passing by the open door of the drawing room. He saw Chanyeol hunched over his designing post, eyebrows drawn together in concentration, plump lips blowing air to dry the ink on the line one hand was drawing, the other pinning the ruler in place elegantly. He looked professional, sure of himself, and yet so endearingly soft, in a caramel oversized sweater, with his hair falling into his large eyes. Baekhyun nearly cooed, but that would have completely blown his cover, so he tripped over his feet in every direction instead, fixing the glasses on his nose like he had somewhere important to go. Such deception and lies.

Strangely enough, all the other times he sees Chanyeol around him, the taller is very different from that handsome man in the drawing room --except for moments when he is cooking, maybe. Baekhyun doesn’t mean to imply that he doesn’t like that version of Chanyeol though; on the contrary, he wishes he had more free time to spare on the weekend, because Chanyeol is at home all day then, but Baekhyun usually has other obligations outside of the house. The Chanyeol Baekhyun is most familiar with is a meek, unbelievably cute giant, who is slightly clumsy and very shy. Even though he looks like he is interested in getting to know to Baekhyun better, he is too timid to ask questions and he hardly ever starts a conversation, picking on his food quietly if Baekhyun doesn’t quip up something first. He is overly conscious of the space he occupies, curling into himself when Baekhyun is near, but he doesn’t mind if Baekhyun brushes past him or touches his elbow, pats him on the shoulder or bends around him to get a spoon from the drawer while Chanyeol is chopping something on the counter. In spite of being reserved, he seems comfortable around Baekhyun most of the time, blushing and fidgeting awkwardly if he talks about himself too long, or if Baekhyun compliments him in some way; Baekhyun truly fears it’s a matter of time before he loses to his urges and pinches those endearing dumbo ears. _They are just so freaking cute!_

All in all, living with Chanyeol is easy; Baekhyun is gaining confidence the more he finds his rhythm and sketches out a daily routine, and he has no problems with Chanyeol, who lets him be himself --and if Baekhyun ever gets unsure and self-conscious, all it takes is a toothy smile brighter than the sun to reassure him. Chanyeol is easy to read if you look close enough, everything his tongue doesn’t say showing on his pretty face in a plethora of expressions, or in his manners even, and if Baekhyun tries hard enough, he can crack a good joke and make him laugh more unreservedly, obnoxiously loud and endearingly twitchy. Such glimpses of Chanyeol’s soft interior under his tightly shut outer shell intrigue Baekhyun and motivate him to keep trying his luck with the man; it’s been a long time since he last met someone and cared to know more about them, his life as a social butterfly providing a wide range but little depth of interactions. The place Baekhyun lives now, call it a house or home, is associated with the comfort and warmth of the friendship he is slowly building with Chanyeol.

~**~

By the time next Friday rolls around, the cherry trees have started nourishing their blooms; there are small clusters of soft buds decorating each branch, with shy, white peaks and blushing pink and burgundy skirts. The future blooming maidens are still coy and playful babies, giggling in the breeze that pokes their outer layers, basking in the late day sun, racing for the sky and standing on their tippy toes on the edge of the branches. They will turn into beautiful draping garlands of pastel pink when the weather gets warmer in a few weeks, releasing their subtle scent in the air, to make the morning sunshine feel a bit more refreshing and the evening breeze more gentle.

Chanyeol locks the car out of habit and walks the garden path to the house, steps a little sluggish if you look close enough, his limbs too long to keep in entirely coordinated function when he is so tired. It has been a long day at the office and his head is still swimming with tiny letters in long paragraphs, his bones and back aching as if they’re crooked, but the familiar sight of home feels comforting, away from the city traffic still wheezing in his ears. The hopeful cherry blooms make him think of sweet weekend promises, of proper meals and warm baths, slow breakfasts and lazy hours of reading, mornings spent in the garden and evenings on the couch. He appreciates the joy in little things, like a scoop of ice cream for dinner, a sunset to watch half sleepy, many bubbles in the bathtub, or a deep breath of fresh air on a sunny morning, and those joys come more naturally over a carefree weekend.

Much as he’d love to loiter around in the fractal shadows of the trees in the garden and unwind like an oversized bunny basking in the evening sun, he eventually has to pick up his pace, feeling the handles of the grocery bags he is carrying cutting into his palms. He usually goes grocery shopping on Fridays after work, cheerfully bumping into his neighbours and their children in the aisles, the old lady at the fruit stand always giving him extra produce as a gift; he’s been living here for years, so he is not a stranger to the suburbian locals. Baekhyun volunteered to tend to their grocery list this week, but Chanyeol reassured him it wouldn’t be a problem; on the contrary, it would be more difficult for Baekhyun to carry all the bags home without a car, and grocery shopping has become sort of a hobby for Chanyeol --if his sister Yura ever heard that particular statement, he’d find himself the very next day signed up for dance classes, horse riding lessons, a trip with his friends abroad, possibly scuba diving lessons too, and multiple interpersonal and social obligations, as only his sister can arrange with her restless, evergreen spirit. He has survived unscathed so far in the little fortress of his home only because she hasn’t decided to make good on her promise --or threat, depending on your point of view-- to get him out of the ‘old-ladies-down-the-street-knitting club’ and into the ‘wildly-appropriate-downtown-night-scene club’; Chanyeol doesn’t even know how to knit, but it goes without saying that he has neither been foolish enough to utter out loud that he finds comparing prices, making bargain purchases and reading the labels of edible products somewhat relaxing after long hours at the office. Yura is _this_ close to denouncing him a spinster and that would be his ultimate demise. He does know which kinds of veggies are in season and which tomato paste has the least preservatives though, and they don’t teach you that in any club.

Anyway.

It’s been two weeks since Baekhyun moved in, and cohabitation couldn’t be any better; in spite of all the obvious changes one more person brings in the house, it feels like nothing has really changed --or if it has, it’s not unpleasant. Chanyeol feels like he got really lucky with Baekhyun as a housemate, because according to Sehun’s semi-reliable experience, it could have been _way_ worse. He was worried about a lot of things at first, especially during the first few days when he was clueless on appropriate discussion topics, afraid that he might insult Baekhyun or annoy him; as a result, things tended to be a little silent on some days, but even that didn’t feel uncomfortable, Baekhyun’s presence, or its evidence scattered in the house, being enough to fill the empty space. At first it was slightly strange to see someone else handling his kitchen and messing with the cupboards, stealing cookies, changing the channel on tv or walking by at random times of the day --but at least he didn’t scream out loud that night, when Baekhyun blearily shuffled into the kitchen for some water and Chanyeol thought he was a robber, the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be alone in the house slipping his mind momentarily; Baekhyun came and left the kitchen shuffling his slippers in complete darkness, somehow remaining oblivious of Chanyeol’s rather noticeable presence just on the other side of the fridge door. He has adjusted to Baekhyun’s presence and habits since then though, so well that, dare he say, he is slowly and steadily growing fond of them.

They are used to very different lifestyles overall, but their shared life is blending smoothly, and they are getting used to each other like it’s second nature. It’s easy to figure Baekhyun out since he presents himself like an open book, trusting Chanyeol entirely with his quirks and opinions, so many distinct traits that he is never shy of showing, like a habit of running in skippy steps when he’s in a hurry, or smoothing the top of the rice in the bowl. Their daily activities have readjusted to a routine so natural, that it feels like they’ve been living together all their lives, like they’ve known each other for years instead of days. It matters little if the books laying around the house were placed there by Chanyeol or Baekhyun, if someone else opened the windows in the morning, if the coat on the rack is shorter or longer. Baekhyun is messy only with his shoes, which are usually tossed next to Chanyeol’s aligned ones, but the size difference is too cute to be bothered by the sight. Baekhyun doesn’t like talking in the morning right after he wakes up, with puffy eyes and stubborn bed-hair, but he doesn’t mind listening to whatever Chanyeol talks about over breakfast. Similarly, Baekhyun respects Chanyeol’s need for some peace and quiet after long days at work or when he needs to work at home, and he knows when to unleash his sense of humor, unrelenting till Chanyeol is laughing to tears. He also has good sense and knows when to share his mind, be it on important things or trivial ones, reminiscing stories while they are cooking, or chattering about his day over dinner; and by some magical power he unknowingly possesses, he always manages to lure Chanyeol out of his shell when they are together, making Chanyeol reveal sides of him that it took years for his other friends to see.

It should seem bizarre how quickly they’ve become so comfortable around each other, but they don’t really notice.

Chanyeol jogs the last steps to the door and struggles to turn the key with his hands full; Baekhyun might not be available to answer the door if he knocks, possibly preoccupied, and the bags are really heavy to wait longer than necessary. The door gives in and the first thing he does once inside, is unload his hands of those bags, soundlessly sighing in relief as he stretches his red fingers; he maneuvers around Baekhyun’s shoes effortlessly to take off his own shoes and go inside, fondly noticing the welcoming little pile. He wonders if Baekhyun will be staying home tonight, trying to remember his schedule for the day, and just then, the sound of Baekhyun’s voice greets him as he walks further in; but instead of welcoming him home as usual, he seems to be oblivious of Chanyeol’s presence, lost in his own world and talking to himself about whatever is on his mind. Chanyeol chuckles under his breath; it’s another little thing he has come to expect when he comes back in the evenings.

Sometimes, Baekhyun is not home when Chanyeol returns, and there’s a note left for him on the counter, informing Chanyeol when Baekhyun will be back later, signed with a cute (‘ ^ ’). It seems that no matter how late into the night the shenanigans he attends keep him, Baekhyun has a principle to always spend the night back home, which makes Chanyeol wonder about his personal life, as in, his intimate personal life, but he is definitely not bold enough to ask, at least not until he knows Baekhyun a lot better, or quite possibly never. Chanyeol doesn’t pry into Baekhyun’s activities, but he does have the number of Baekhyun’s best friend --a person named Kyungsoo--, so that he won’t be worried if Baekhyun ever sleeps over at his place without notice after a particularly exhausting night out; he’s never had to use it so far.

Sometimes, Baekhyun is home working quietly, either writing, or editing and brainstorming on the work his editor assigns him. He is working hard on his new job, but he is still running his blog; Sehun shamelessly confessed to Chanyeol a couple of days ago that he is reading the blog in question in bed every night, anticipating updates --it was a matter of time till he found out really, so Chanyeol was not surprised. When Baekhyun is busy, he can be found in any house nook possible, a head of fluffy honey hair popping out the odd corner to greet Chanyeol when he’s back; or when his red-rimmed, puppy eyes are too focused on their work, Chanyeol receives only a hum of acknowledgement upon arrival, until Baekhyun trudges to the kitchen later and collapses on a highchair, as Chanyeol serves dinner for both without complaint; it’s nice to have company at the end of the day, to come back to more than an empty house.

Some other times though, Chanyeol walks in on Baekhyun during his leisure time, when he’s busying himself in the kitchen, banging pans in the making of the newest recipe he found online, or in the living room, surfing the net to keep himself updated. And there is something about Baekhyun, whatever he might be doing; when he is carefree, he is singing. Slow and quiet or upbeat and obnoxious, even when he is not serious about it and he’s singing just for fun, he sounds heavenly, voice husky just enough and yet flexible with high notes. It never fails to amuse Chanyeol and make him wonder what kind of one-man concert might be happening while he is not home; it’s not like Baekhyun is shy of his singing at other times, but he is generally more quiet when Chanyeol is around, allegedly taking pity on his big ears.

From what Chanyeol has heard so far, just snippets or mumbles and echoes from the other room, Baekhyun seems to have an endless repertoire, which apparently consists of many genres, with an affinity to pop songs and ballads. He sings foreign songs too, mostly practising his english, or humming classic jazz songs that don’t play on the radio anymore, modern bands taking over the time of day. Whereas Baekhyun sings sad songs with passion, turning words into feelings through his voice, he is a man of many talents, making his lighter performances highly entertaining; he has belted out a couple of fabulous renditions with Chanyeol for an audience, usually accompanying them with a little choreography while they’re cooking, and he even got Chanyeol to dance a lively twist one time, coaxing him to abandon the dishes and move his body in the small space of the kitchen the two of them crowded, music blasting from the living room as they swayed and twirled on the spot like there was no tomorrow.

Today’s performance is a sassy, sultry song, with slightly jumbled and made up lyrics but with a memorable melody, and Chanyeol giggles in amusement when he hears it, humming along without noticing as he carries the groceries to the kitchen, knees subtly bouncing to the rhythm. But just as he turns the corner and Baekhyun comes into view, the smile freezes on his face, his stomach tightens uncomfortably and he instantly transforms into a stunned breathing statue with very wide eyes, because Baekhyun is not...wearing pants.

Chanyeol is not the type of person to get flustered by a bit of skin showing; he might be introverted and awkward, and he feels embarrassed easily, but the human body is not one of the reasons that he would get embarrassed about --we all have one, it’s nothing scandalous. He also has seen Baekhyun in tight jeans before and noticed his nice figure, but he hadn’t bothered putting much thought behind the picture. He certainly did not expect to come home to Baekhyun singing to himself and squirming to the rhythm --completely unaware of his audience--, the top half perfectly decent in a large gray hoodie with a red _Supreme_ logo swallowing his frame, from the broad line of his shoulders to the tips of his fingers and down to the middle of his thighs, while his legs are completely bare, strong calves with dents of muscle subtly lining the skin up to his full thighs, small ankles making his bare feet look cute. He is kind of cute as a whole, actually, the way he tantalizingly sways his hips to the song and shifts his weight on the balls of his feet, bending his knees to accentuate each movement, and yet he looks so _small_. Chanyeol is not sure what to do, finding himself in such a situation for the first time, so he keeps fearfully still for a couple of moments, but then he guesses Baekhyun wouldn’t appreciate turning around and being spooked out of his wits if he sees him standing there without warning.

“Baekhyun?” he calls cautiously, clearing his throat to make his presence known, and Baekhyun stops singing and dancing in a heartbeat, freezing mid-lyric. Chanyeol’s fingers twitch impatiently, his stomach kicking in awkwardness at the sound of his own voice, as Baekhyun slowly turns on his heel, his moves tense and meek; his eyes are wide, a cross between terrified and disbelieving, lips still poised around the word he’d been singing, and then all too fast, his cheeks become a bright beet red colour and his eyes blink.

“Oh?” he ekes out, fingers tightening to fists around the fabric of his sleeves, before he lowers his hands to the hem of his shirt, fidgeting, eyes flying everywhere that isn’t Chanyeol, as if that will make him magically disappear. It’s unusual for him to show such uneasy shyness, most of the time being rather unapologetic and playful, quipping a joke or acting cute in the face of uncomfortable situations, hardly lingering on such things and forgetting them in a heartbeat, but he looks rather flustered at the moment, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. A few short moments of long silence pass, words itching on the tip of Chanyeol’s tongue because he’s really not made for confrontations and he can’t stand the awkwardness, but he fretfully holds them back in case they are too clumsy for Baekhyun’s seemingly delicate state of mind; at last,l Baekhyun clears his throat nervously. “Uhh, I’m sorry for…” he utters, leaving the obvious unsaid, his voice laced with embarrassment, his eyes eventually dropping to the floor; he glares at the ground with pursed lips and burning cheeks, as if he wishes to disappear, and Chanyeol feels a little guilty, his chest tightening in compassion.

“It’s fine” he says tentatively, his words quiet but kind, hoping he can mend the situation and Baekhyun’s wounded dignity; he tries to put forth all his honesty, really not minding Baekhyun’s appearance in the least; he’s still the same Baekhyun, and now that the initial shock is ebbing away, it’s easy for Chanyeol to recompose his thoughts, shifting the weight of the bags in his hands at they start biting his skin again. “Do you usually go around the house like this?” he asks after a moment of silence, unable to hide the slight tone of amusement in his voice at the thought.

“Pants get stuffy sometimes, so…” Baekhyun mumbles, still a little reserved, his eyes hesitant as they focus on Chanyeol and take in the small smile on his lips; but before he completes his appraisal, they suddenly widen with another thought. “I swear, I’m wearing shorts!” he exclaims in promise, lifting and flailing his arms disjointedly, eager to prove his innocence; he sounds so small and naive --and he most definitely looks like the cutest strawberry--, and Chanyeol laughs lightheartedly.

“I believe you” he affirms, still giggling when Baekhyun lowers his eyes to the floor again, ears red, hands fisted on the hem of his hoodie, toes pressing onto the floor; his lips are twisted in a way that shows a petulant, ashamed mistrust in Chanyeol’s statement. It’s an interesting side of him, very different from the confident man who wears tight jeans that leave little to the imagination, and shirts which flirtily reveal his chiseled collarbones and the faint freckles on his sun-kissed shoulders. Baekhyun is not body-shy; he is so comfortable in his skin that he doesn’t mind being touchy, he doesn’t care about what others consider befitting for him to wear, he doesn’t think twice before he gets comfortable close to Chanyeol on the couch, thighs almost touching. He’s probably more embarrassed that he got caught, rather than for his exposed skin, his teeth chewing on his lower lip.

“I’ll just go change, I’m sure I’ve brought a pair of sweats, it’s no big deal-” he starts mumbling fast, his entire body fidgety as he tries to come up with a semi-credible excuse.

“It’s really okay, you don’t have to” Chanyeol reassures him, interrupting him with a genuine expression on his face, so that he may believe him this time. “You live here too now, and if that’s what you find comfortable, I have no trouble with it” he says, perfectly honest and serious. He likes it when Baekhyun is himself and when he expresses himself without reservations around Chanyeol, it feels like a small accomplishment --not that Chanyeol is confident enough to say such things out loud in such bold fashion. He actually feels a little disappointed that Baekhyun felt like he could go around in the clothes he’s comfortable in only when Chanyeol’s not home, but hopefully he is going to change his mind from now on; besides, shorts aren’t considered notably more embarrassing than crazy bed-hair, or unsuspecting food stains, and Chanyeol is pretty sure they’ve been through that before. Baekhyun examines him carefully, droopy eyes swarming with thoughts, staring so intently that Chanyeol stats feeling a bit jittery under the scrutiny. “Would you like to help me with these?” he chirps, changing the subject in an only slightly noticeable stressed pitch, jiggling the bags to get Baekhyun’s attention; the shorter’s eyes instantly widen, realising Chanyeol has been carrying them all along.

“Sure, of course” he agrees, rushing to Chanyeol’s side and relieving him of half his load, his concern about his appearance mostly forgotten; his ears are still a bit pink, but he returns Chanyeol’s thankful smile more comfortably. They carry the bags to the kitchen in silence, piling them on the kitchen island as usual, and then they start emptying them one by one, putting everything in its respective place, crossing paths in the kitchen and reaching around each other without any trouble or awkwardness; they have done this before, so it’s easy. Helping with the groceries is something that Baekhyun readily offered to do from the very start, and it has really helped him accommodate himself in the kitchen and get personal with the cupboards; he even has his own little nook for snacks, which Chanyeol always makes sure to keep well-supplied, even though he doesn’t really need to interact with it, his taste in snacks less specific and easily satisfied by an apple.

They have been collaborating on general housework ever since their first days of cohabitation, which somehow helped them both realise that Baekhyun is not a guest but a permanent inhabitant; dishes, laundry, cooking, cleaning, everything is his responsibility too now. Baekhyun never complains about his share of housework, humming to himself as he dusts the furniture and dancing with the mop as he cleans the floor. Today he seems even cuter helping with the chores, his bare feet paddling on the floor, the long sleeves getting in the way of his busy hands, his red shorts showing whenever he bends down to reach the lower compartments. He looks the cutest struggling on tiptoes to reach the higher shelves, but Chanyeol doesn’t dare offer his help; Baekhyun is too independent and he doesn’t want to risk insulting him, even unintentionally.

“Oh, you bought pineapple!” Baekhyun exclaims out of the blue, arms buried to the elbow in a bag, eyes smiling at the contents. Chanyeol turns away from his work with the flour to look at him, and Baekhyun gives him a wide smile, eyes turning into half-moons. “I love pineapple; my grandma says that when I was little, I used to go around saying _Baekhyunnie likes pine-an-apple_ ” he chuckles, taking out the fruit in question and balancing it in the hold of his pretty fingers. He looks so happy with such a simple thing, the lines around his eyes looking so charming, and Chanyeol can’t help but smile at the man beside him, his heartstrings tugging in endearment.

“What other fruit do you like?” he prompts, preferring conversation to the mute shuffling about and the occasional closing of the fridge door; conversation with Baekhyun is more relaxing after a long day. Baekhyun puts the fruit down and squints at the wall in concentration for a moment.

“Strawberries, mangoes, melons and peaches” he lists on his fingers, and Chanyeol nods, storing the information at the back of his mind for possible future reference, turning around to squeeze a box of spaghetti in the cupboard. _So, Baekhyun likes sweet fruit the most_ , he concludes, searching in the next bag for anything that goes in the fridge. Baekhyun hums beside him. “How about you?” he pipes up curiously, surprising Chanyeol a bit; he is not used to people showing any interest in him, but with Baekhyun, he’s starting to get the hang of answering personal questions, even though they always come with a momentary short-circuiting of his brain. He glances at the shorter reservedly, shuffling his feet when he finds him staring up at him so close; he is doing it again, looking at Chanyeol with that sparkly, happy look of anticipation, like a puppy who’s been promised a walk to the park.

“Anything but pears, really” he answers as casual as he can, scuttling away to put the carton of milk in the fridge, hoping the cool air will calm his blushing cheeks. For some reason, his mouth is still talking on autopilot, keeping his brain busy and distracted from just how soft he is for Baekhyun already. “I don’t like the texture, they’re either sour and stiff or ripe and grainy” he gives the useless information of the day, and then he zips his lips, inwardly groaning and feeling like banging his head against a wall; why does he have to be such an awkward, weird cookie in life? Thankfully, Baekhyun doesn’t comment on his bizarre justification on fruit preferences, and they go back to tidying up the groceries side by side, the process so much faster when there’s two of them. Soon, the bags are all gone and only the ingredients Chanyeol needs for dinner remain, splayed on the counter.

“What are you making for dinner?” Baekhyun asks with interest, leaning over the kitchen island with round, expectant eyes; one thing about Baekhyun that Chanyeol is willing to bet his life on, is that the man loves food. During their time together, he has naturally found out that good food is Baekhyun’s weakness, especially sweets, though he is always mindful when indulging; it’s still easier to cook for two in regular portions instead of packing meals for one in the fridge that never seem to end after cooking once. Baekhyun also knows some recipes Chanyeol has never heard of, and it’s fun to try interesting dishes from around the world whenever Baekhyun takes the reigns, but Baekhyun gets just as excited for more mainstream dishes too. It’s endearing how his eyes are twinkling with excitement even at the simple ingredients laid out before them, and Chanyeol takes a moment to examine his supplies again, if only to keep Baekhyun on his toes a moment longer.

“Chicken wings, glazed with honey and barbeque sauce, plain rice and, hmm…” he puts his hands on his waist, thinking of the rest of the ingredients, calculating. “Green salad?”

When he turns to Baekhyun, he doesn’t expect the most sparkling puppy eyes on this side of the universe staring back at him, paired with a pout on soft, pink lips, and his heart stammers a little, taken aback. Baekhyun dramatically clasps his hands in praying position, looking up at Chanyeol and fluttering his eyelashes on purpose, lower lip jutting out in the most heartbreaking yet pleasing way Chanyeol has ever seen, causing his thoughts to scatter and start running around in his head in fluster. “Please, feed me?” Baekhyun begs in a small voice, the perfect replica of a hungry puppy pleading for food; Chanyeol’s heart really skips a beat this time --purely because of his love for puppies-- and he chuckles clumsily to cover up the hitch in his breath.

“Sure, I can cook for two” he agrees easily, hoping that the soft dusting of pink over his cheeks is not too obvious in the sunset light pouring through the window. Hearing his response --as if he had any other choice in the face of Baekhyun’s invincible pout--, Baekhyun’s eyes widen in glee and then curve into pure crescents, pushed up by his cheeks, his smiling lips forming a rectangle; he does a cheering little dance too --more like a celebratory wiggle-- and Chanyeol can’t stop his heart from skipping wildly anymore, finding Baekhyun’s childish behavior exuberantly cute, not for the first time. He has cooked for Baekhyun before, so the enthusiasm he receives is nothing new, but he is always a little nervous, anxious if Baekhyun will like it --he always does, expressing it in colourful praise--, and Baekhyun’s adorable ways of asking for food always get Chanyeol’s heart racing a little. This is why he never dared getting a puppy, he’d be whipped beyond hope.

He doesn’t waste time in getting started, his own stomach demanding food after remaining empty all day due to his hectic schedule at work, and he rolls up his sleeves to start cooking. While he washes his hands in the sink, Baekhyun bounces around the kitchen island to take a seat on the other side of the counter so that he won’t be in the way; it’s his usual spot for observing Chanyeol in the kitchen, unfailingly every morning when he’s only half awake, and whenever he is home for dinner. He likes cooking himself, but he likes watching Chanyeol cook just the same, remaining focused on his work even when Chanyeol has to turn his back to him; Chanyeol has inevitably grown used to it, nowhere near as self-conscious as he was at first.

“How come you’re here tonight?” he makes light conversation --Baekhyun’s undoubtable privilege, considering how awkward with communication Chanyeol is with just about everyone else under the sun--, setting down the first mixing bowl and taking out a tablespoon mechanically. He is more than happy to have company tonight, but it is unusual; if he has understood Baekhyun’s schedule correctly, it involves nightly outings sometimes, fancy events, invitations from colleagues and so on that lure someone to a night out, and Friday is generally speaking a popular day to be out and about.

“It’s been a busy week, I thought I deserved a Friday off” Baekhyun answers cheekily, leaning with his elbows on the counter to get a better view as Chanyeol starts chopping, downward droopy eyes peering over curiously, even for something as simple. Chanyeol sends him a half-smile and doesn’t ask further questions, focusing on his task and being thankful for the occasion. Just because Baekhyun works from home doesn’t mean he doesn’t get tired, especially when his deadlines are hectic and he has to juggle practically two jobs; an evening with Chanyeol is probably much more relaxing and uneventful than putting in all the effort to get ready and heading out, and it comes with a much more convenient bedtime too.

Chanyeol concludes that Baekhyun is in a good mood after their first five minutes into his cooking, the smaller being cheerful in spite of his exhaustion, and no longer troubled by the former fiasco, or feeling conscious of his appearance. He has his own way of getting involved in the process, joking around and stealing Chanyeol’s attention from his cooking supplies repeatedly, talking about his week, asking about Chanyeol’s, smiling so brightly that he looks like an angel, the light from the glass door behind him glowing on his light brown hair like a halo. He pays close attention to Chanyeol’s cooking as always, his lips pouting around the words as he tells a story animatedly, but he doesn’t let Chanyeol forget himself, every now and then sneaking playful smiles and pouts and laughs that demand reciprocation; cooking has become very interactive for Chanyeol, but he can’t say he minds.

Once the chicken wings are in the oven and the rice is in the cooker, he starts on the salad, washing and chopping vegetables --the boring part. Baekhyun unexpectedly comes over on his side of the kitchen again and he starts helping with the intermediate clean up, looking quite determined; he doesn’t have to do anything, Chanyeol is used to keeping house by himself, but when he shares his mind, Baekhyun only waves his hand dismissively with a smile and continues what he had been doing, alongside his story about his first visit to Bali. Chanyeol makes an effort to carve the radishes like Baekhyun showed him the other day, as a small way of returning some happiness for all of Baekhyun’s help.

They decide to eat in the garden, the evening not too chilly, although Baekhyun does have to wear proper pants so that he won’t get cold. Chanyeol serves the food in slightly rustic style, and Baekhyun disappears for at least ten minutes out there to set the table, making it very fancy, laid out with a nice tablecloth and two lanterns, plates and glasses of iced water. Between the lantern candles and the overhead light of the garden, there is just enough light for them to dine, without their messy fingers being too embarrassing; Baekhyun still manages to catch the carving on the radishes though, and he compliments his culinary student for a job well done. It’s pretty, with the all flowers around, the faint scent of jasmine, the quiet rustles in the trees and the stars twinkling in the sky like diamonds. It’s pretty, with Baekhyun’s babbling about how delicious the food is and with his echoing laughter, their legs brushing against each other under the table occasionally, which no one really minds; it’s pretty with the easy conversation about their first failures in the kitchen, and with Baekhyun’s whines when he splatters sauce on his hoodie by accident, but his smile is still glinting in the faint light as he futilely tries to save it. It’s so pretty.

And when the food is finished and their stomachs are full, Baekhyun flashes Chanyeol a grin that looks a little tired but cutely mischievous, eyes drooping sleepily. He leans over the table conspiratorially, intriguing Chanyeol and beckoning him closer with one slim finger, like a cat luring a kitten with its tail; Chanyeol obeys and squirms closer on his chair with a silly giggle which he pretends never happened. “We should do this more often” Baekhyun whispers like a secret, quietly chuckling in a way that wrinkles his nose adorably, his teeth flashing in the candlelight. Chanyeol bites his smiling lips and nods, hoping his blushing cheeks are not too prominent.

~**~

It just…happened.

Chanyeol hadn’t been planning on spending the best part of his evening curled up on the couch, hugging his laptop and peering at the bright screen with absolute fascination behind his reading glasses, but here he is, comfortably nestled in pillows and wrapped in a fluffy blanket, with the device on his lap and his drawing supplies scattered and forgotten on the coffee table.

Actually, it didn’t just happen. Oh Sehun had much to do with it.

It all started like a rarely occurring yet pretty usual, quiet evening. Chanyeol got home at a reasonable hour for once, after a month of subtle overtime due to an intermutual sense of contention circling the office lately, about an important upcoming project everyone would like to have under their belt; it’s a world of friendly competition at the firm but he doesn’t mind, having concluded the main parts of his proposal and secured a boost in his productivity quota from his other projects that might just earn him the assignment. He is resourceful and dedicated, but he knows when to stop, and today seemed like a very good day to step back and go home to enjoy a relaxing evening. After a healing hot shower and a quick meal, he decided to unwind with a cup of home-brewed spiced chai latte, letting his pent up creative ideas flow onto paper; it’s like his hands find their own rhythm, tracing curves and lines, drawing shadows, letting his mind escape the daily pressure, as if he can take refuge in the glass castle of his own ideas.

Unfortunately, he didn’t venture very far with his designs today --what looked like an ornamented wolf of his imagination--, before Sehun rudely interrupted his zen zone with an annoyingly persistent stream of messages, which Chanyeol promptly ignored at first; it wouldn’t be the first time the younger gets bored or excited and consequently decides to rattle Chanyeol’s inner peace by pestering him for attention on unimaginably trivial matters. It can be cute, but most of the time it’s just _Sehun_ , and it’s been proven that it’d do no harm if Chanyeol neglected him a little, till he’d eventually move on to do something else, which wouldn’t require Chanyeol’s input. Yet today the messages just kept coming relentlessly, with little _dings_ that proved to be insufferably distracting, so Chanyeol, mildly irked and helplessly unaware, made the great mistake of reading them.

He should have known Sehun wouldn’t rest till he found everything there is to be found about Baekhyun --and consequently shared it with Chanyeol, after concluding his investigation; he claims it is brotherly concern, since Baekhyun is the new prominent addition to Chanyeol’s life, but Chanyeol knows better and he would say Sehun is just too curious for his own good. The result remains the same, and it was a string of enthusiastic messages and methodical information about Chanyeol’s new housemate, stemming from his online presence and accompanied by linked webpage evidence, even a couple of photos and screenshots to highlight important parts; undoubtedly, even the secret services would envy such keen meticulousness. However, Chanyeol is not the kind of person who often relies on social media for more than recreational purposes, and he takes all impressions from them with a pinch of salt; that was one of the reasons he didn’t search about Baekhyun online from the start, preferring the genuine experience of getting acquainted with him in person. So, normally, Chanyeol would scold Sehun to leave his housemate in peace already, and then continue with his evening.

Normally.

But it just so happened that his eye caught a very interesting picture of an exotic lake within a cave, where the sun came through a wide opening at the top, crowned with tangled verdure, and the links Sehun had sent him were very convenient, so he thought it wouldn’t hurt to check one location quickly, for future vacation planning purposes. All it took one hesitant click, and he got irreversibly absorbed in a virtual universe, composed by Baekhyun piece by piece over the years, beautiful and mysterious and fascinating. Before long, Chanyeol found himself reading through Baekhyun’s blog posts, his inspirational, informative and funny paragraphs, with mesmerizing pictures of the places he’d been, some well-known and some hidden gems. Baekhyun’s diary of experiences was so well composed, that Chanyeol spent hours reading through it tirelessly, sometimes hearing Baekhyun’s voice in his written expressions, and feeling like he could see the world through Baekhyun’s eyes, his images being not just aesthetically impressive but engaging, captured at just the right moment to share a feeling or a thought.

Unavoidably, Chanyeol eventually got enticed to read some of Baekhyun’s posts that were not related to his travels; there were pretty pictures, of food, clothes, fairy lights, cute animals --okay, it was the cute animals that did it for Chanyeol, he simply can’t resist, it’s his ultimate weakness. There were many more things to read about Baekhyun, his eco-friendly efforts, documentaries and collaborations with important global media, charity, art taste, his impeccable sense of style, and there were many more beautiful pictures too, Chanyeol’s personal favourite being one of Baekhyun smiling in golden light with flowers in his hair. To his credit, he did feel a little guilty to be hopping through more personal entries, and he refused to access more delicate social media, since this is exactly the sort of invasion of privacy he had initially hoped to avoid; Baekhyun might share certain things with the world, and he is very mindful about it, but living with him brings other factors into play on every single piece of information, and Chanyeol doesn’t want to get carried away in his admiration and unintentionally make Baekhyun uncomfortable because he knows too much of him. He’d rather listen to his stories directly from his lips.

Nonetheless, his reservations are not to imply he hasn’t spent the entire evening smiling at beautiful pictures, reading through endless content and hating Sehun for throwing him into this; he has a way of getting whatever he wants in the end and Chanyeol is oblivious enough to be the easy victim. He can’t say he regrets spending his evening like this though; it’s a relaxing and interesting pastime, and he doesn’t even realize when the sun sets and the evening primroses open their fragrant petals to the moon. He is very cosy under the blanket, with his long legs folded on the couch and the laptop precariously balanced on them, currently breezing through a resort review and, he’s not proud to say, scrolling up every so often to ogle the first picture under the title line, over and over again --it’s not very productive, but this frequent urge that there is more to see in that image is beyond his control. It’s a picture of a gray stone bathtub in a room of glass walls that overlook a wild, deep green jungle, and Baekhyun’s naked back is right in the centre, the tones rather dark to be revealing, but Chanyeol has still managed to count three moles and discern lines of muscle, as well as the subtle shadow lining his spine and the glazed highlights on his broad shoulders; Chanyeol is certain the reasons of his fascination with the picture are more artistic than profoundly psychological.

In the silence of the night, it’s hard to miss the turn of lock and key, and a wave of spine-tingling horror seizes Chanyeol, because that means…Baekhyun is back. Baekhyun, as in, the same person Chanyeol has spent hours stalking today, giggling and marveling and fawning over him, reading his thoughts and counting his moles. It takes a few seconds of bated breath and eyes wide and blank like a deer in headlights, pondering the absolute void, until panic kicks in and he starts fumbling to close the numerous tabs on his browser and erase his history, distraught and paranoid --because there is obviously no way Baekhyun would know what Chanyeol has been up to, and there is no reason for alarm; even if he did find out, it’s not like Chanyeol did something wrong or offensive, Baekhyun might even be flattered. That reasoning does perfectly nothing to appease Chanyeol in his current state though, so he gets even more frantic as the seconds tick and Baekhyun’s light shuffling at the door grows specific in Chanyeol’s mind, with unhelpful, real-time visualizations of the short man taking of his coat, _thud_ , the closet, _shuffle-shuffle-thud_ , his shoes, _patter-patter-patter_ , his steps. Chanyeol’s heart is fluttering in his throat like a hummingbird and that cannot be good, even for a man his age.

“Hey there, enjoying your evening?” Baekhyun’s voice breaks the silence louder than Chanyeol expected after hours in miniscule sounds, but it’s warm and it carries a smile, impossible to be wary of, like a friend ruffling your hair or a puppy wagging its tail. It somehow dissolves Chanyeol’s agitation, his heart hiccupping back to a slower rhythm and his hands stop shaking, as he shuts his laptop and sets it aside swiftly. He has to turn around in his seat to see Baekhyun, but he doesn’t even mind the strain on his sleepy waist as he twists himself to look over the back of the couch.

“You’re back?” he greets with a smile, pushing his glasses up his nose before they tumble down his face awkwardly. It’s a little strange to see an animated version of the pictures he’d been examining all evening --Baekhyun really doesn’t age, does he--, but Chanyeol absently decides that the real-life version can’t compare --and this comes from a person who has expressed his fondness of characters on paper many times before. There is just something about the way Baekhyun’s hair seems so invitingly soft, the way his skin looks bouncy like a mochi, the way the shadows cling in flattering places on his body and his lips transition from pouts to smiles that no still-frame can capture.

“It’s not too late, is it?” he quips, coquettish with a playful smile as he saunters a bit closer to the living room, into clear view under the lights. His hair is a little windswept and his gaze looks deeper, probably enhanced with a light wash of neutral eye shadow on his lids, bearing that sated, peaceful gleam of a man tired but happy to be home. Chanyeol shakes his head to agree it’s not too late into the night, even though he doesn’t have the faintest idea what time it is. It’s not like it matters. “Have you eaten?” Baekhyun asks, genuinely doting in a way that’s reminiscent of his grandmother, always babying Chanyeol; it’s easy to feel comfortable around Baekhyun, and it’s endearing how effortlessly they’ve warmed up to each other, only becoming closer and closer as the weeks pass.

“Yes” Chanyeol assures him, his fingers drumming on the fabric of the couch as his body begins to strain; he keeps himself in good physical condition, but it’s an admittedly uncomfortable position after a short while. He contemplates it’s probably been hours since he last ate, but his stomach is not complaining yet, and he can always have a light snack later. He pauses that thought though, when Baekhyun lifts his hand to showcase a fancy bag.

“I brought dessert” he announces, but it also sounds like a suggestion, full of meaning; his mischievous smirk hints that he already knows what Chanyeol’s answer will be, and who is Chanyeol to disappoint? He can’t deny his heart fluttered at the idea of something sweet the moment Baekhyun said it, sounding just right to satisfy the craving he never knew he had. He licks his lips as they curl in a reciprocating smile on their own, his eyes glancing to the bag Baekhyun is holding.

“Let me help with that” he says, voice light and cheerful, and Baekhyun lets out a deep chuckle in amusement; he already knows Chanyeol so well. He starts backtracking to the dining room, his husky voice still ringing in the house and softening in the ambience of the lights and the smooth night outside, almost dreamy; the taller tosses away the blanket and hops to his feet hastily to follow him to the kitchen. “So, how was it?” he inquires with interest to start a light chat, that comes so naturally when he is with Baekhyun, in spite of his introverted predisposition; it feels calming to banter with Baekhyun, no matter their topic of conversation. It might be Baekhyun’s excellent social skills, intuitively creating the appropriate mood each time, or the sound of his voice, confident and sweet and comforting. Either way, they both enjoy their little talks, seeking them by a little every day, and more whenever they have time for each other.

Chanyeol joins Baekhyun in the kitchen just as the man deposits the bag of goodies on the counter, careful not to tilt it; he doesn’t even need to raise his eyes to know Chanyeol is going to fetch the plates, thanks to the little routines and habits they have developed, working like clockwork around each other. Baekhyun’s grandma prides herself in matching them to live together, as if she always knew they’d fall into it so easily.

“The showcase was fancy, as always; I probably smell of that perfume all over” Baekhyun mumbles, shuffling a box out of the bag somewhere behind Chanyeol; and yet, by some independently developing sixth sense, Chanyeol is so certain of Baekhyun’s next move that he is already turning towards him after just opening the cupboard, momentarily neglecting the plates. “Here” Baekhyun says, extending his arm to offer his wrist right under Chanyeol’s nose, and the latter tilts his head to get a whiff, eyes blinking at the milky skin lined with faint blue veins on Baekhyun’s inner wrist, exposed under the edge of his soft sleeve.

“Oh, it’s nice” he decides, the scent of something on the sweeter side, sensual and clean, mixing with the warmth of Baekhyun’s skin. Baekhyun is right that he smells whole of it --it was a new perfume launch after all--, but it suits him, and it’s not overpowering. Chanyeol still thinks almond scents match Baekhyun better though. _It’s not too intimate to know that, right?_ Chanyeol has never thought much about it, everything flowing so smoothly between them that he hardly ever pauses to think if something is too bold or too personal, and Baekhyun seems just as comfortable with him as well; Baekhyun seems to invalidate a lot of Chanyeol’s introverted norms. This time is no different, however, and they both find the action perfectly normal, readily moving on with their tasks.

“We went for dinner after that --the shrimp risotto was _divine_ ” Baekhyun punctuates his words with a lip bite, which Chanyeol barely catches as he rounds the corner of the counter with their plates. He hums with a faint smile, trying to picture Baekhyun eating like a proper gentleman in a fancy restaurant with important people, sneaking as many bites of the food he likes as possible between conversation, while trying to look professional and interested in more than just the delicious food; nope, still too cute for that. He does look rather handsome though, in a pair of jeans that are so pale they could be grayish-white, and a jewel green turtleneck blouse, which shows off his body line just enough and compliments his hair in the shade of burnt sugar. He is not overly styled, his hair combed naturally and his eyelids only mildly tinted, lips pink and pouty as always; he looks overwhelmingly huggable sometimes. “Do you like mille feuille?” he asks, suddenly jostling Chanyeol’s focus back to present, and the taller smiles at the skeptical pout on Baekhyun’s lips as he stares right into Chanyeol’s eyes with all the clueless curiosity of a bamboozled puppy.

“House favourite” he declares confidently, his hands blindly opening the drawer in front of him and retrieving two spoons, because he is naturally too busy reciprocating Baekhyun’s blinding, happy beam to look at anything else; Baekhyun’s lips turn that adorable rectangle shape and his eyes curve into crescents, a picture of perfect innocence and gleeful radiance that reflects on everyone near him. Chanyeol will admit that he is more than satisfied with the selection of dessert too, because who doesn’t like mille feuille? Flaky and creamy, sweet and smooth, with just a whisper of cinnamon; perfection.

Baekhyun doesn’t waste time to open the box, revealing two large pieces of dessert, looking like fluffy clouds, and Chanyeol helps him transfer them with utmost reverence and care onto the plates; Baekhyun lets out a cute squeak when he almost thinks they might drop the second piece by accident, which they both laugh about, once the dessert has safely landed. Then Chanyeol gets both plates and starts heading to the living room, while Baekhyun stays behind for a moment to put away the box.

“How was your day, anything interesting?” his voice carries easily in the open space, there is not even need to shout, allowing for a relaxed conversation. Chanyeol bypasses the edge of one armchair and approaches the coffee table, careful not to hit his shins or trip.

“I got off work a bit earlier and beat the traffic” he recounts, and Baekhyun hums in acknowledgement, paying attention even though he doesn’t really have to; Chanyeol’s day is almost always more boring than Baekhyun’s, and yet Baekhyun is unfailingly interested in that. Chanyeol appreciates it, because after years of living alone, he finally has someone to share mundane things with, and he is grateful Baekhyun is willing to humour him every time. As he plops down in his former seat on the couch, Chanyeol almost blurts out how his evening _really_ evolved, but he has the merciful epiphany to hold his tongue last moment, and he chooses his words more carefully. “It was nice to relax a little” he says a little vaguely, eyebrows frowning slightly in confusion as his alert ears pick up some more shuffling, not from the kitchen, but definitely from Baekhyun. _What is he up to?_

The shorter soon comes into view, arriving at the living room from the other side of the couch, and Chanyeol’s expression smoothes out, watching Baekhyun settle down next to him, folding one leg underneath him so he can sit facing Chanyeol. He doesn’t reach for his plate as the taller expected, but instead holds out something towards Chanyeol with a cheerful smile, which grants the latter’s surprise; where did that even come from. “This is for you” he chirps, gently placing the medium-sized bag into Chanyeol’s confused hands, which close around it mechanically, without really registering the move; he only holds it gingerly because Baekhyun gave it to him as such, hopefully not squishing any contents.

“Um…what?” he very eloquently wonders aloud, still at a loss. He didn’t ask Baekhyun to bring anything, not even eggs or milk, and Baekhyun already brought dessert; Chanyeol can’t fathom what else he could possibly ask for, and his bewilderment must be obvious on his face. Baekhyun is not deterred though, his smile just as wide and joyful.

“It’s a gift” he explains, at which note the gears in Chanyeol’s head start to turn, and he realizes he is holding a gift bag, of heavy paper with embossed letters. He glances down for a quick examination; it’s not very heavy or very large, but it looks smooth and matte, the foreign letters presented in golden calligraphy. _A gift?_

“Why?” he wonders again, hoping Baekhyun will excuse his inelegant sentences, understanding his puzzlement --though he possibly couldn’t guess a fragment of his fluster, because Chanyeol has never been very good at receiving gifts, much preferring to be the one giving them, and to accept one so unexpectedly is not a scenario he has a script for. Why does he get a gift? Why now? Are there any cohabitation milestones he should be aware of? He doesn’t really have anything for Baekhyun if they’re celebrating something --but at least he is certain it’s not anyone’s birthday, so any offence should be taken lightly if that’s the case, right? He is not sure he is very successful in keeping the pout from forming on his lips, but he still tries, and maybe something about it is amusing to Baekhyun, because he tilts his head with a charmed, soft look in his eyes, and his smiling pink lips twitch a little.

“Because I have many things to be thankful for to you, and this is a small token of appreciation” he breezes through the words as if he has practiced them beforehand --which is not entirely improbable--, and Chanyeol is focused more acutely now, but that doesn’t help him to be any less indecisive about the appropriate reaction. On one hand, this night is progressing so well, not to mention, Baekhyun has been extremely nice to him so far, and when receiving a gift, generally speaking, one ought to be polite and not nitpick. However, Chanyeol is not sure he can accept such a spontaneous --and possibly expensive-- gift without a legitimate reason; Baekhyun says he has many things to be thankful for and, indeed, he has expressed his gratitude many times, for Chanyeol’s hospitality, his patience and understanding, his company, and so forth. But Chanyeol has just as many things to be thankful for, and the feeling is mutual beyond doubt; hence, since he doesn’t usually express himself through gifts, he is not sure he should be accepting something without giving something back.

Would he gift something to Baekhyun spontaneously without expecting anything in return though? Yes, yes he would. So, _maybe_ it’s not inappropriate to accept it; it would certainly make Baekhyun happy…

“You really didn’t have to” he says quietly, his fingers shyly fidgeting with the edge of the bag and his eyebrows curling with lingering hesitation every now and then, but he thinks he has made up his mind.

“But I wanted to!” Baekhyun protests with childish naïveté, his high spirits refusing to fade, his smile lighthearted. “It took me a while to decide on it too, so I hope you’ll like it” he confesses, scooting closer on the couch and placing one hand on Chanyeol’s knee to encourage him; his hand is warm over Chanyeol’s sweatpants, elegant fingers so sure of themselves, and Chanyeol absently thinks that Baekhyun is such a charmer, no one could escape him, with his subtle touches and soft words and endearing smiles. He bites his lip, still a little uncertain, but Baekhyun only waits, gazing at him in patient expectation. Chanyeol decides to stop overthinking things and make them both a little happier.

He tries to be careful with the bag, still not knowing what it contains, so he first pulls his sleeves up his arms to get the sweater paws out of the way; then he carefully undoes the ribbon and the staple holding the bag closed, his anticipation heightening, and he feels a smile slowly spreading on his lips; he is sure Baekhyun is watching just as eagerly, his fingers squeezing Chanyeol’s thigh without noticing. It feels a little like Christmas morning, to be completely honest, and Chanyeol savors the moment he slides the box out of the bag, weighing it in his hand; he is smiling widely by now, and Baekhyun leans closer as if to see something he hasn’t already picked himself. Chanyeol’s nimble fingers open the rectangular box, and inside lays one beautiful pen on protective cushion, the tip made of shiny metal, the body even and cold to the touch, looking like it’s made of red fragments that catch the light differently with the slightest tilt.

“It’s beautiful” Chanyeol marvels, admiring it from every angle; he has never owned a pen so breathtaking and luxurious before, even though you’d think he should, in his line of work. It is obvious Baekhyun thought it through before he decided, and his flawless sense of style led him to the most befitting and impressive choice without fail; Chanyeol truly appreciates this, his heart still jumping happily in his chest. “Thank you, I’ll use it well” he says, turning to Baekhyun and smiling at him in gratitude, and Baekhyun all but glows at that, looking so satisfied with his choice and Chanyeol’s smile.

“I’m glad” he nearly whispers, his eyes gleaming as they curve in a smile, the shadows diffusing on his skin and his lips stretching into a gorgeous, tender smile, soft and serene, but brilliant. It’s heartfelt, and Chanyeol blushes a little because it feels intimate in a way, with Baekhyun’s eyes only on him, his hand on Chanyeol’s thigh; his heart swoops down his chest and comes back again, beating a bit more fast and gleeful. There is only one thing that could make this night even better, and it is lying neglected on the table, but Baekhyun soon remembers and hands Chanyeol his plate with an excited smile and a happy exclamation which is not entirely coherent, but it doesn’t need to be; it wholly captures the excitement for this treasured dessert, and Chanyeol is quick to follow his example, tasting the first bite of fluffy sweet heaven.

~**~

It’s another Thursday night, and they are sitting on the floor of the living room, the coffee table covered by two large pizza boxes and paper napkins, all lights turned on around them to prevent any accidental mess. Chanyeol has his long legs spread under the table, and they are long enough to be sticking out on the other side, his back propped up against the couch, an empty plate in his lap. Baekhyun is sitting just a bit further away, legs folded butterfly style with his back also against the couch, his knee digging into Chanyeol’s thigh a little. Silence reigns in the house, not any music or the usual movie of choice playing, the effervescent garden quiet under the blanket of humidly cold night.

Movie time is one of their prefered shared activities on certain weeknights, conveniently timed so that they won’t have to stay up too late, while both of them are fond of pictures and art. One usually picks a movie and the other cooks, and they enjoy each other’s company with good food and entertainment, sharing a blanket on the couch and having long discussions afterwards, until they get sleepy. Baekhyun is very vocal during movie time, bouncing in his seat and making his vibrant opinion on the characters known, and even though some might find it annoying, Chanyeol kind of enjoys it more than the movies themselves. Baekhyun is also less reserved in his manners when he’s engrossed with a film, patting Chanyeol’s thigh when he is impatient with the plot, leaning on him when the movie is too long and the cushions start becoming uncomfortable, hiding his face in Chanyeol’s shoulder when the scary part comes on.

The last time they watched a movie was last week, because this week has been busy for Chanyeol at the office and for Baekhyun outside of the house, but it feels like it was yesterday, just sitting like this, snacking on takeout. Last time, they had craved chinese for dinner, which took a painful and somewhat amusing turn in retrospect, because Chanyeol mindlessly scalded his tongue with soup due to his childish impatience to eat, and Baekhyun laughed at him --but only a little bit--, but when Chanyeol whined about the spring rolls being too crispy for his sore tongue, Baekhyun cut them in smaller pieces for him, which was more than nice of him. It made Chanyeol feel babied, and he insincerely whined about that too; Baekhyun only laughed more at that. His injured tongue and pride aside, it was a night that ended in laughter, like most nights with Baekhyun do.

Unfortunately, today there is a very different aura surrounding them, no movie playing on tv, the lapses of conversation to silence feeling somewhat somber. Baekhyun is not in the best mood imaginable --although it has significantly improved after the arrival of their dinner; Chanyeol was right to guess that pizza would cheer him up. It didn’t do the wonders he had been hoping for though, so the taller can only keep trying to lift his spirits and fill in the empty spaces, which requires great effort and focus, especially for a person like him, who regularly fails in finding things to say; the things he does for Baekhyun, but it feels like it’s the least he could do.

It really wasn’t Baekhyun’s fault.

They have eaten about half of the pizzas, their hunger mostly quenched, although it is widely accepted that there is always room for one more slice. Baekhyun has just finished one more, and he wipes his greasy fingers clean with a paper napkin, pink tongue licking the sauce stain on the edge of his lips and still not getting it all off. Chanyeol can feel the silence stretching too long and he racks his brain like a madman, trying to find something to say, but smalltalk doesn’t always come easy to him and he has already exerted himself today; Chanyeol is a man of silence and, even though he has perfected his smalltalk skills at work, he is not very good at guessing what people expect from him in a conversation, so he avoids it. It’s different with Baekhyun, easier and more natural, but he can’t do it alone; it really doesn’t make things any easier that he is under a self-imposed censorship tonight, concerning topics that relate to cooking or implement cooking terms.

At this point, their scrumptious yet not homemade choice of dinner can be explained. When Chanyeol came home late in the evening, Baekhyun had already started on dinner, like he had promised over the phone when Chanyeol called to let him know he’d be a little late. Unfortunately, within the next ten minutes, something went very wrong in Baekhyun’s cooking and chaos erupted in the kitchen. Oh, and the tomato sauce erupted too, splattering all around the pot and Baekhyun’s apron and the counter. Alongside a big mess, the result was a charred to the point of poisonous concoction, which not even their joined efforts could save. Baekhyun took the failure to heart, in spite of Chanyeol’s many assurances that it could happen to anyone, that there wasn’t any real damage and that they could still prepare something easy for dinner; but Baekhyun was in no condition to discuss food, so Chanyeol decided to order something that would hopefully make him feel a little better.

While waiting for their dinner to arrive, Chanyeol meticulously cleaned up by himself and spent the rest of the time comforting a dejectedly curled up Baekhyun on the couch, rubbing his back and cooing soothing words. Maybe it was the result of a difficult week and accumulated stress, but Baekhyun was sobbing that he didn’t ever want to see the pans again, being an emotional wreck over his minor mishap. Chanyeol knows Baekhyun’s bad days, when something at work doesn’t add up, when he receives too harsh criticism, when his parents call; Chanyeol has never had to be this delicate with people outside of his close family circle, so he doesn’t have proper words, but he can express comfort in other ways, and it works with Baekhyun. Wrapping him in a blanket, rubbing his back and offering food works well so far.

They have spent the bigger part of their night in silence, general mood reading indicating even to the most dense of humans that conversation would not be very fruitful. But Baekhyun’s aptitude for conversation has gotten significantly better after he has filled his stomach, so maybe Chanyeol can try his luck again. He has started a few conversations since they sat down for dinner, but no matter his valiant attempts, it’s not the same without Baekhyun’s active participation, without his jokes and laughs. He watches the smaller fraying the napkin with his pretty fingers, his eyes not as sad as before but still gloomy, and an idea pops up in his head.

“So why did you choose blogging? Why not write a book?” he asks a question that has been on his mind for a while now, deep voice breaking the spell of silence over them. Baekhyun jumps in his skin a little, Chanyeol’s voice unavoidably jarring after so long in tranquil stillness, so Chanyeol doesn’t take offence. Baekhyun turns to look at Chanyeol in slight surprise, eyes blinking wide and still red-rimmed from his crying earlier, but his expression seamlessly morphs into one of calm and deep thoughts, his lips quirking like he intends to answer the question, eventually. Chanyeol is relieved to see that, except for his slightly worn looks, Baekhyun seems to be back to normal.

“First journalism; literature later, maybe” he answers casually, his voice carrying perfect sense, the look in his eyes level-headed. Chanyeol nods in understanding of his sensible life plans; Baekhyun would make a fantastic author, and that is his --mostly-- unbiased opinion, based on the blog he secretly reads. Baekhyun writes well, more than just well --it’s not random that his blog has been so successful for years--, he is imaginative and funny, and he wields the language exceptionally; Chanyeol has read a lot of books, and he would like to read more, from Baekhyun. “I like photography and visual arts too, but if I gave up on journalism, it would be pushed back as a hobby, and I don’t feel like letting go of it yet. A man can have many hobbies, but he has to make a living too” he says, a small smile curving his lips, the first in quite a few hours. Chanyeol’s lips mirror the expression, and he mentally pats himself on the back for overcoming the obstacles of his lacking skills to be somewhat useful tonight. “How about you? Any hobbies?” Baekhyun asks, sounding lively and genuinely interested; Chanyeol is always surprised by those personal questions, his heart squirming a bit in his chest, but he doesn’t mind answering them. It sometimes seems bizarre that they know each other so well, that they feel so close, and yet they don’t know such mundane things about each other.

“I like drawing, but that’s part of work” he lowers his gaze to his lap, his thumb playing with the rim of his plate. Chanyeol sometimes draws sketches irrelevant to work as well, but he doesn’t bother people with those, they are just something to pass the time and clear his head. “I like reading too, and listening to music” he adds, though he is certain Baekhyun has noticed his pastimes of choice in the weeks living together; drawing, reading, music. “Wow, I am so boring, sorry” Chanyeol mumbles with a nervous chuckle, hiding his face in his hands. Baekhyun has been travelling the world, going on adventures, meeting people, taking pictures and documenting everything in words artfully, while Chanyeol has been building his house and staying within his walls, all quiet and domestic. He is so bleak, just let him disappear into the void already.

“You’re not boring” a thin finger pokes his shoulder, and Chanyeol lowers his hands to look at Baekhyun reluctantly, finding a gentle, encouraging smile adorning his lips. “You’re just very...private. You keep a lot of things to yourself” he explains his point of view, trying to find the right words --the least insulting ones. _That’s the nicest way anyone has ever put it_ , Chanyeol will credit him. He has had people trying to refute him before, people who care about him and presumably see something in him that doesn’t, but Baekhyun is not just better with words; he expresses it better, much more genuinely, as if Chanyeol’s introversion is not a problem but something interesting, a part of himself that he shouldn’t feel ashamed about.

“Ask my mother or my friends any day, and they will tell you that’s _exactly_ why I’ve spent so much time being single” he counters in a semi-jesting tone, which is in fact self-deprecating. He can’t even remember how many times the people who care about him have given him the speech about how he should go out more, be more open to people, dare to flirt confidently, and so many other times people have lost interest in him, romantic or otherwise, because he wasn’t what they had expected. Chanyeol knows he has inherited good looks and he’s been blessed with height above average, he knows how to present himself and respond to polite interest, but he can’t motivate himself enough to change beyond the surface; he collects rilakkumas, he likes cooking and grocery shopping, he is a housecat whose interests can be purchased within the four walls of his house, he doesn’t like attention or big changes, he is not adventurous or exceptionally charming, he is a little dorky and _boring_. If he is meant to remain single to be comfortable with himself, he is fine with that.

“Firstly” Baekhyun starts, the unexpected determination in his voice intriguing Chanyeol; people hardly ever take the time of day to tell him he should feel better about himself, much less actually try to _help_ him feel better about himself. Baekhyun’s eyebrows are frowning above his eyes slightly, a stubborn and endearing expression, but it is serious too, making his pending words sound more honest and meaningful. Chanyeol’s heart hiccups in his chest, his mouth going a little dry. “It’s not a bad thing to be single; you are free to live your life in any way you want, and you define happiness in your own terms. And secondly, being lively, and outgoing, and exciting, is not necessarily good for your personal life either” he completes his second point with a strange quirk of his lip and a hand motion that vaguely points at himself, perhaps unintentionally.

Chanyeol never pries on Baekhyun’s life, but from what he can tell, Baekhyun is single too; he doesn’t have any special visitors or go out with the same person often except for his two best friends, he doesn’t stay the night anywhere else, he doesn’t mention anyone interesting or going on dates, and his grandma would have definitely told Chanyeol if there was someone worth mentioning in her grandson’s life. Even though Baekhyun is so social and active, he is as single as Chanyeol, perhaps for very different reasons that boil down to the same conclusion, and result in the same thing. Chanyeol can’t imagine how being more lively and outgoing can cost him a relationship, when those shortcomings where the reason he has been rejected in the past, repeatedly. But the most mind-boggling thing is that Baekhyun has somehow managed to remain single; why in the name of earth’s rotation?

Not knowing how to respond to Baekhyun’s words and lost in thought, Chanyeol remains silent. He knows Baekhyun’s words ring true, each of them is living proof; but then why is it so difficult to explain to others, how can he use such words to reassure his loved ones that he is living the life he wants, that no, he won’t be miserable for the rest of his life just because he doesn’t have an interest in changing himself to be someone else’s perfect. Chanyeol wishes he were more of things he is not, but he can’t bring himself to wish he were less of the things he is.

Baekhyun lets his head fall back with a sigh, resting it on the couch pillows as if it’s heavy, and he turns to look at Chanyeol tenderly, gaze soft and sympathising under the shadow of his lashes and rosy lids. His honey brown hair is falling over his forehead and eyebrows in a way that makes you want to brush it away, if only to see those brown orbs twinkling brighter; the droopy ends of his eyes slope down to sharp cheekbones, his jaw just as sharp, his button nose tinted red from his earlier crying. That blue hoodie he is wearing today is making his skin look fairer, almost transparent, but it still has the healthy glow of the sun, token of times spent under foreign skies and in faraway seas. Baekhyun is beautiful on the outside, and so much more breathtaking on the inside; he is kind and giving, a little stubborn and mischievous, but hardworking and honest. He is smart and wise, he is educated, by the book and from experience, he is interesting, curious, benevolent, trustworthy and full of life. He has an effortless glow, a light that shines on others and warms their heart, making the world seem a little better. Chanyeol cannot imagine why anyone wouldn’t make an effort to be with him.

“You are cute when you’re staring at me like that” Baekhyun says after a while of silence, his voice softly calling Chanyeol back to reality. Oh god, for how long had he been staring? And what does he mean ‘like that’, that Chanyeol has a specific way of staring at him, what if it’s embarrassing?! _And...did he just call me cute? Me? Cute?!_ His inner monologue must be pretty obvious on his flustered face, because Baekhyun’s pouty lips slowly curl into a knowing smile, that little mole above his upper lip daunting Chanyeol. There is a glint in Baekhyun’s eye that seems too pretty, too charming, making Chanyeol’s insides dance out of tune. This increasingly regular occurrence must be unhealthy.

“Well, I- sorry” he stutters awkwardly, averting his eyes and clearing his throat nervously, gathering his legs closer as if his long-limbed body could ever become small and go unnoticed. He wraps his arms around his legs and rests his chin on his knees, pretending the wall is interesting; he can feel his neck burning red, and Baekhyun is too close not to notice, but he doesn’t comment aloud, instead chuckling at Chanyeol’s bashfulness. Chanyeol can’t believe he is having such an embarrassing reaction at his age, but well, he never really outgrew his personality. “Would you like some pineapple?” he blurts out --and if that isn’t the weirdest response right after a handsome man calls you cute, Chanyeol doesn’t know what is. He was born an awkward oyster in a world of angelfish.

“Yes, I would” Baekhyun answers easily, like he had been expecting the change of topic, however lame and artless the transition, and Chanyeol nods, eyes still refusing to meet Baekhyun, his cheeks independently increasing their temperature now too. He focuses on the leftover pizzas instead, mechanically cleaning up with slightly stiff movements, and it keeps him sane, until a pretty hand perches warm on his knee, and his mind nearly flips, the urge to squeal and run to his room growing stronger. “Thank you for doing all this for me, Chanyeol” Baekhyun says calmly, his voice emotional and husky, raw and oddly soothing. The furious bells in Chanyeol’s mind are hushed at once and he blinks, turning to Baekhyun so innocently that he really can’t guess what Baekhyun sees in his expression.

“Anytime, Baek” his lips mumble on their own, thoughts drowning in Baekhyun’s sincere puppy eyes. He doesn’t miss the way Baekhyun’s lips crack a smile at the nickname, and somewhere in the back of Chanyeol’s head, a voice curses at him for being so disjointed and emotional tonight, exposing more of himself than of Baekhyun, even though he is supposed to be the vulnerable one; Chanyeol tells the voice to kindly shut up for a second. There are poems written for moments like this, and he doesn’t want to miss it.

~**~

It’s been a month, and Baekhyun can confidently say that he doesn’t regret returning to the country, nor does he miss travelling just yet. Between editing and blogging, he is busier than ever, and he doesn’t even have time to miss his escapades abroad. Whenever he is not working on his assigned material for Joonmyun, Baekhyun has to prioritise the invitations to shops and events that hope to be reviewed on his blog, and schedule his personal shootings for his themes; the change in his content has become apparent by now, and an increasing number of brands have started taking an interest in him, his audience fluctuating and growing in the end.

He tries to combine business and pleasure, taking his best friend Kyungsoo as his plus one at fancy launching events --which are basically cocktail parties, where his work requirements are minimal and they can spend the rest of the night catching up--, or visiting his other best friend, Minseok, at an artsy cafe near the indie, bohemian neighborhood where he lives, sometimes at the place where Kyungsoo works. He has to attend meetings with his boss, occasionally, and he often makes appointments with brand representatives, coworkers and photographers he might collaborate with in the future. It’s tiring to be constantly putting himself out there, dressing up, being his most entertaining and charming self, but he would be ungrateful to complain about it; he is being given more chances than most people in his profession get, and he is doing his best not to disappoint.

His domestic life has become his little sanctuary, nothing like the cage he feared when he first decided to settle down. He doesn’t discuss his private life in his business, he might only make a vague statement on a related topic at most, so his routine with Chanyeol stays safely away from the curious people in Baekhyun’s public sides of life. With Chanyeol, Baekhyun can unwind and be himself; he can go around unkempt, he can laugh loud enough to scare the birds outside, he can eat as much as he likes, he can spend days on the couch or rant lengthily about things that bother him, without being judged a single second. Baekhyun is not afraid to show Chanyeol his un-glamorous, un-pretty moments, because Chanyeol is right there with his own moments, crushing on the couch after a hard day, frowning in annoyance all morning because something is troubling him, getting frustrated with himself when he cannot express something properly or complete a task. Chanyeol is very _human_ , and Baekhyun needs that in his life, that pinch of reality that keeps him afloat in the pit of unrealistic expectations he’s thrown into every day.

As the weeks pass, the two of them become closer than close, and Baekhyun is secretly pleased, as an advocate of the theory that some gene has been passed down from their grandmothers that has predetermined they will be best friends for life. They have their highs and lows, even fighting when the tension is too much to bear, but then Chanyeol will mope at Baekhyun --though he denies doing it-- until the latter wraps him in a blanket and a hug and whispers he is sorry in his ear, or Baekhyun will give Chanyeol the silent treatment until the taller makes him breakfast and sits beside him, poking his shoulder and pouting through his apologies like a remorseful giant puppy. Sometimes, you find the person with whom you create the perfect storm and the perfect sunshine, and Baekhyun is pretty sure you’re never supposed to let go of that.

Life in the house runs like clockwork now, not very different from what it used to be at first, just very very comfortable. They go grocery shopping together on Fridays, Chanyeol picking him up after work and driving them both to the market happily; by now, all the neighbors and their children know Baekhyun, and they probably assume the two of them are dating, if the giggles and fond stares are anything to go by, but no one has mentioned anything to them on the subject of their cohabitation, so they don’t bother addressing it with people whose opinion doesn’t affect them. Baekhyun’s grandma hums evasively on the topic.

Chanyeol is nice and fun when you get to know him better, still a little timid but opening up much more quickly and being himself with less reservations. He scribbles little responses under the notes Baekhyun leaves for him when he goes out, they iron each other’s clothes if they find them in the laundry, they have long discussions about which flour brand makes the best cakes, and Chanyeol drives him around sometimes when it is convenient, without any complaints. He also saves Baekhyun from bugs --that spider in the bathroom was huge and he had every right to scream, okay?!--, and he has developed a sixth sense for what Baekhyun’s stomach is craving --he looks mesmerising as ever in the kitchen, and even though Baekhyun cooks some of their meals too, he prefers drooling and swooning over the counter like a starstruck ladybug, watching Chanyeol being king in his kitchen. It’s a legitimate pastime.

They get personal sometimes, when the night falls sweetly in the garden, or when the sun shines gently on a Saturday morning, and they have shared many secret thoughts. Baekhyun has trusted Chanyeol with many things, from the embarrassing story about how he got the little scar on his knee slipping on ice in St. Petersburg, to his falling out with his parents a few years back and their awkward relationship ever since. In return, he knows that Chanyeol’s father abandoned his family when his son was still little, and that his beloved grandma Park was the one from whom he inherited the land that the house is built on. They both end up in tears sometimes, being emotional fools who share their pain, but well, it’s all part of the beauty in them.

They grow closer, not just metaphorically, but physically too. It has been pretty clear from the start that they are both touchy people, emotions and words turning tactile often. What started as friendly pats and inconsequential brushes of limbs when they were close, has turned into habitual touches and intentional snuggling. They just feel better when they are in contact, be it a consoling hug, a companionable lean on the shoulder, a playful pinch on the side, or an affectionate ruffle of hair to complete a warm smile. Chanyeol is less shy about gestures than words, so Baekhyun can praise him with a stroke on the collar of the shirt that makes him look good, he can beg for food by resting his chin on the taller’s shoulder with a pout, he can back-hug him to thank him for his patience when he knows he is being difficult.

The only downside Baekhyun can think of in living with Chanyeol, is that he has unexpectedly found his kink in a considerably inconvenient way. Who would have suspected it in the first place, that Baekhyun has a thing for men doing chores? It sounds weird and it’s very new for him too, but the flair in his veins and the stir in his gut is unmistakable. According to Kyungsoo’s very unscientific and unhelpful opinion, it’s because Baekhyun is single that his libido is a rollercoaster; either that, Baekhyun has to admit grudgingly for lack of a better explanation, or Chanyeol has a way of making chores seem really hot. Baekhyun swears he always tries not to ogle and always fails, when Chanyeol cooks, or does the laundry, or god, when he _vacuums_. He is only human and he caves in, like a couple of days ago, when Chanyeol was pulling weeds in the garden by the cherry trees, which are rather late to bloom this year, and Baekhyun spent an solid hour spying on him and gushing to himself by the window of his room. Chanyeol might be the closest Baekhyun has been to a perfect specimen, with a lean and tall stature, toned arms, veins running under the skin, broad chest, shoulders and back that even models would envy, and long legs --even if they’re a little lanky. Maybe he’s not very curvy from behind, _you know_ , but it’s still tight and far from disappointing; it kind of works for him, Baekhyun decided as he observed him, bent in half to pluck out the unwanted greens.

It’s been a month, and Baekhyun is already lusting over his housemate, _ugh_ , great. The person of interest is oblivious though, and Baekhyun makes sure to keep it that way, keeping his fantasies to himself, ahem. He sometimes dreams of a deep voice calling his name, and a milky nape on which Baekhyun might or might not be imagining sucking hickies, seeing the blooming marks of his lips on the skin, but in the morning, he refuses it was Chanyeol his subconscious was craving for. Baekhyun is a tease, but Chanyeol is not, and when they are face to face, Baekhyun can’t comprehend how his mind wants something so dirty from someone so pure, so he ignores all the signals his body is giving him, idly wondering how long it has been since there was joy for him in the bedsheets --besides sleeping. It’s just a phase, it will pass.

The days flow by, the cherry blossoms waiting to open their flowers to the sun and let the warmth caress their silky petals. It’s nice to be around Chanyeol, who is soft and sweet and kind, who looks happy just because Baekhyun is spending time with him. He seeps under Baekhyun’s skin like the spring sun, and Baekhyun wouldn’t be any happier than to unravel his petals to him.

~**~

The sun is shining brightly today and the air is warm, feeling surprisingly fresh for the bustling city streets. Chanyeol had forgotten how crowded Saturday evenings can get around the town --when was the last Saturday he was out of the house anyway?--, especially when it’s blooming season; the white and pink flowers have just started to peek and quiver on the branches under the pale blue sky, like an animated picture out of a romantic film, which everyone rushes to experience and document from the very beginning --though Chanyeol personally prefers the more ripe season, just before the flowers begin to rain down. Romance is what most people seem to have in mind on this evening, strolling hand-in-hand with their loved ones under the shower of soft sunrays; Chanyeol towers over the crowd and he can see every whisper and stolen peck, giggles over ice cream and laughter in every colorful corner. He prefers quieter things.

He has to side-step a couple on their way, separating from his company momentarily and re-joining him to enter a small coffee shop, the bell over the door jingling at their arrival. It’s a refined, bright cafe, walls painted in pastel lemon and mint colours, with about a dozen tables scattered inside, each decorated with a small bouquet of white flowers. The air smells of cookies with subtle undertones of coffee, the chatter of the patrons light and comfortable, mixing with the modern music playing quietly through the speakers. There are jars of different fruit jams lining the counter and more flowers, the display of baked goods tidy and brightly illuminated on the side. Jongdae claimed to have found this place through a blog, always curious and eager to explore the city, and Chanyeol can see the picturesque appeal; it’s definitely worth the commute for a pleasant evening coffee, or a delicious breakfast. It seems to be a popular place, but it is not overwhelmingly crowded, friendly to those of quieter demeanor like himself.

They find an available table by the window with relative ease, overlooking the vibrant street outside, all sorts of people passing by. The sun is warming Chanyeol’s cheek, and they take their time examining the menu; it has some classic options, but also some very interesting, unusual beverages and sweets. He discusses with Jongdae about the ingredients and their unique combination, a habit he has picked from Baekhyun without realising, and he finally orders a cold tea he has never heard of before. The service is quick and the lady serving them is polite, smiling brightly as she wishes them to enjoy their drinks. Jongdae is positively thrilled with his choice, snapping a million pictures of the chocolate drink he’s been served, adorned with whipped cream, marshmallows and other candy; Chanyeol can already imagine the pictures popping up on the feed of his limited social media accounts, where he mostly observes the lives of cute puppies and interacts with some friends. He is admittedly too private to share his life online, so his own updates are disjointed and sparse; he does take just one modest picture of his pretty drink, however, the sun filtering through it, colourful fruit bits floating under the ice cubes. Baekhyun likes food, he might find this interesting.

“So, how’s Toben?” Jongdae asks with interest after a while, finally taking a sip of his drink and making a weird, high-pitched noise of delight at the back of his throat. Chanyeol rolls his eyes at his embarrassing friend, who loves sugar more than life; it’s a miracle he stays so skinny, eating cakes and sweets like it’s a sport. How does his boyfriend provide for him on a daily basis --and when will Chanyeol get to meet said boyfriend, Jongdae has been rather secretive with this fling, which might be something more permanent after all, considering it’s been steady five months, exceeding by far Jongdae’s personal record. That’s the kind of thing most people --especially close friends since college-- would ask about one another when meeting for the first time after nearly a month; trust Jongdae to be more interested in Chanyeol’s sister’s dog’s welfare than his life. Chanyeol is a good uncle to Tobennie though, he adores the pup like no other, so he can’t hold it against Jongdae; he is a pretty lovable black floof after all, stealing hearts with a cute bark and a jump on his little paws.

“He is growing well~” he hums with a bright smile, thinking of his black, fluffy nephew. His sister occasionally sends him videos of the energetic puppy’s antics, and Chanyeol coos at the cuteness, watching them secretly at work; it’s been a couple of months since he last saw the puppy in person though, and he has missed playing with its ears. They grow so fast; Toben used to fit in his hand when his sister got him, and now he is as big as his arm. The puppy has brought so much happiness into his sister’s life, giving her new reasons to smile every day, it must be its own kind of magic. Chanyeol watches the strawberry floating next to the straw he submerges in his drink and smiles; Tobennie really like strawberries. Baekhyun likes strawberries too. “He now sits and shakes paws” he quips, his chest swelling with pride at the puppy’s achievements; Jongdae laughs, loud as always.

“Please Chanyeol, adopt a puppy for yourself, it’s about time” he comments, voice familiarly whiny even when he’s not truthfully complaining, and Chanyeol smiles meekly in response, quietly sipping his drink. Jongdae has always been a firm believer that Chanyeol would and should make a puppy happy in life, but Chanyeol thinks he doesn’t have enough time to raise a puppy by himself, giving it all the love it deserves, so he always stays silent on the subject.

They effortlessly move on to discuss other topics, from Jongdae’s mystery boyfriend banning the former from the kitchen for a month after the casserole dish broke on his watch --apparently, he loves his pottery and crockery, which quite frankly needs to be protected from Jongdae’s clumsy clutches--, to Chanyeol’s smooth cohabitation with Baekhyun --there is a lot to catch up on that--, to Sehun’s non-existent love life and Jongin’s overcrowded love life, the weather, and lastly, Jongdae’s most recent date night --thankfully, he spares Chanyeol the intimate details, unlike the last time; Chanyeol doesn’t need to know so many things about a stranger. His friends don’t have noteworthy reservations when it comes to sharing their private affairs with him, but Chanyeol sure could live without knowledge of certain things that make him shiver just at the memory.

They keep chatting endlessly, Jongdae being one of the most talkative and communicative people Chanyeol has ever come across, jumping topics and still making perfect sense, talking a lot but still including his partner in the conversation. He is on a short water break between ranting sprees about his job, when the serving lady approaches their table again, smile intact, and she places two plates in front of them. Each has a generous slice of lemon pie inside, decorated with the customary swirl of torched meringue on top of the tangy curd, and a scoop of vanilla ice cream beside it, a green sprout making a vibrant contrast of colour.

“Excuse me, miss, we haven’t ordered this” Jongdae shakes his head innocently, blinking up at the lady in confusion and generally taking the lead in interaction with strangers because Chanyeol tends to be less comfortable with such things. Chanyeol contemplates that maybe they should order something like this though, because it looks delicious, a perfect snack for the afternoon as the sun slowly lowers in the sky. But he has to agree with his friend for now; maybe there’s been a misunderstanding or a mix-up in orders, since the shop is serving so many tables. The lady looks at Jongdae in the eyes calmly, seemingly certain that she hasn’t made a mistake.

“It’s the gentleman’s treat” she assures Jongdae in a polite voice; Jongdae shakes his head and frowns in bewilderment, his brown curls bouncing on his head like a poodle. Chanyeol feels just as confused, not used to receiving offers. _A gentleman’s treat?_

“Who might that be?” Chanyeol asks this time, genuinely curious, discreetly glancing at their nearby tables; he doesn’t think there is anyone he recognises around, so it should be unlikely anyone would treat them. Maybe someone thought they were some people else, in which case, he is not sure they can accept the gesture --maybe Jongdae knows how to handle it. The serving lady points to the furthest back of the coffee shop as subtly as possible.

“The young man over there” she says, and Chanyeol follows her indication to scout the furthest table at the back, peering over the heads of people in-between. Jongdae also tries to see, half-rising from his seat which screeches slightly against the floor, and craning his neck not-so-subtly, to look past the obstacle of the young woman’s body. For such a social person, Jongdae can be very immune to common rules of public decency sometimes, but all people close to him seem to get used to it, and he can be charming enough to get away with it for people who don’t know him.

Chanyeol’s eyes need only a second to recognize the rich cinnamon knit sweater he hanged in laundry last week, and the man wearing it looks heartbreakingly cute and sharp, a thrilling combination which most people can’t quite pull off. Chanyeol recognizes the honey locks of hair swept to the side, the wire eyeglasses perched on top of a button nose, lip bitten between two pretty rows of teeth in concentration, puppy eyes downcast. Chanyeol’s lip pull in a smile; the picture is all too familiar from home. Baekhyun has a talent for looking pretty and cuddly, especially when he is working. As if sensing he is being watched, Baekhyun suddenly lifts his eyes from his work for no apparent reason, but his gaze has a purpose as it wanders in the shop; he breaks into a wide, rectangular smile when he spots Chanyeol looking back at him, and he waves excitedly, the large sleeve of his sweater flopping about. Chanyeol waves back with a bright grin and decides to accept the treat, thanking the serving lady to dismiss her. He should thank Baekhyun too, when they get back home, and maybe have his favorite fruit for dessert tomorrow.

“Who’s that?” Jongdae disrupts his line of thought with his curious voice, blinking at Chanyeol with a weird expression on his kitten features; it’s a mixture of intrigue and disbelief, a bit as if Chanyeol has grown a second head. _Why, am I not allowed to know people?_ Chanyeol frowns at first, but his offence is erased soon, because Jongdae doesn’t mean harm, and the truth is Chanyeol doesn’t have such a wide friends circle that Jongdae wouldn’t know about. He pulls one of the plates closer to him, taking his time to turn it around and pick up the spoon; he can almost hear Jongdae’s unquenchable curiosity scratching and screeching at his friend’s sanity, and it’s his best friend duty to torture him a little as payback before he answers.

“That’s my housemate, Baekhyun” he says casually, focusing on the dessert in earnest and taking the first bite. It tastes heavenly, so fluffy and creamy, the perfect combination of fresh and sweet flavors, the biscuit tart base crunching and the ice cream melting, creating an explosion on his tongue. It’s been a while he tasted something like this and he hums happily, not paying any attention to his friend, who is having three heart attacks and an aneurysm at the unexpected encounter and the seemingly overwhelming information; Chanyeol said just one simple thing though.

“Really?!” he squeaks, his hand jerking on the table in surprise and nudging the spoon on his plate, his thin eyebrows rising on his forehead until they almost disappear. It attracts side-glances from the patrons nearby, and Chanyeol shushes him urgently with a stern look over his spoon, which is in his mouth for a second time. Jongdae vibrates in his seat silently for a moment, staring at Chanyeol in disbelief and unfounded excitement; not even Chanyeol is acting like this and it’s _his_ housemate. It’s a shockingly small world, but that doesn’t disturb him _that_ much. Jongdae whips his head to look in Baekhyun’s direction again, gaze twinkling with mischief and secret calculations; Jongdae is this calm and quiet only when he is plotting. Should Chanyeol be concerned? “Do tell…” he muses, leaning an arm on the table and resting his head in his hand, still looking at Baekhyun with an intrigued expression and a smug smile; he’s been spending too much time around Sehun, clearly. Chanyeol rolls his eyes; he told him nearly everything a few minutes ago, they were having a conversation about Baekhyun for literally the quarter of an hour.

“Can you stop staring? He’s my housemate, not a museum exhibit” he reproaches, his heart trembling in fear; what if Baekhyun turns around and catches Jongdae staring at him, what will he think that Chanyeol has told his friends about him? They have all heard of Baekhyun unavoidably, Sehun even follows his blog, but none of them has actually ever met Baekhyun in person. If they had, Chanyeol would have probably been dead long ago, because it’s a well established fact that his friends are way too embarrassing for someone who is as much of an awkward turtle as Chanyeol. He can feel his heart palpitating, praying that Baekhyun won’t notice his nosy friend; but, judging by the group of people surrounding him, he is probably in one of the unconventional work meetings he attends, so chances are he won’t look their way.

“I am rightfully curious, okay?” Jongdae states darkly, his eyes soulless as he turns his head to glare at Chanyeol. The taller stares back at him, trying to think of a way to respond, mouth gaping like a fish with unvoiced protests; but Jongdae is more interested in ogling his housemate than bickering with Chanyeol, so he turns to Baekhyun again, his expression softening. _Is he really doing this?_ Chanyeol gives up with a sigh; he knows better than to argue with someone as stubborn as a donkey. “He looks nice” Jongdae decides in the end, the corners of his lips curling into his signature, cheshire grin.

“He _is_ nice, now stop being so rude” Chanyeol chides him futilely, and before he has time to change the conversation and hopefully distract Jongdae with the new album of his favorite band, the latter lifts a hand and waves at someone somewhere, smiling like a happy cat. Chanyeol’s blood freezes in his veins; oh no, was that just now directed at Baekhyun? Did baekhyun catch him staring?! “Did you just-”

“Can I meet him if he comes over later?” Jongdae interrupts him without consideration, finally assuming a proper position in his seat and picking up his spoon to carry on with dessert. He sounds suspiciously certain that it will happen, but Chanyeol doesn’t have the amount of composure required to dare ask if Jongdae was indeed waving at Baekhyun as an unspoken invitation to their table later, and he settles with a small surge of relief, because at least Jongdae is not embarrassing him anymore amongst the patrons.

“Do I have a choice?” he grumbles; he has known Jongdae for many years, and in all their years, the man never misses a chance to meet new people, much less people he is actually interested in meeting. And this being Chanyeol’s somewhat personal life, he doesn’t really have a say in it, his fate is sealed. Jongdae shakes his head of curls predictably.

“Nope” he pops the word obnoxiously, smiling widely, his lips curling at the corners, eyes scrunching up. Chanyeol gives up with a sigh and turns to his dessert for consolation, the ice cream starting to melt on the plate. Jongdae eats a few bites in blissful silence, and Chanyeol thinks they’re over the subject already, so he is surprised when his friend opens his mouth to talk about it again, expression pensive. “You know, Sehun said he’s your type but I thought he was just being annoying; now I see, I can _definitely_ see the appeal” he says with an odd expression of appreciation, which is more earnest than teasing this time. Chanyeol inwardly groans over the fact that Sehun and Jongdae have been gossiping about him behind his back, but he is more confused over Jongdae’s words; it’s the second time his friends tell him that, and Chanyeol will insist that he does _not_ have a type.

“What are you even talking about?” he mumbles, eyebrows frowning over his eyes and lips pouting in displeasure. Jongdae hums, putting down his spoon and counting on his fingers.

“He’s cute” he argues, swallowing his mouthful properly “Puppy eyes, pouty lips, sweet colours, gorgeous hands --and I might be a committed man, but those hips and butt are another wonder of the world” he says shamelessly, lifting his eyes to the sky; Chanyeol nearly chokes at the unwarranted remark.

“How did you manage to check him out?!” he whispers under his breath in disbelief, eyes wide, disapproving and scandalized. He will neither confirm nor deny Jongdae’s statement out loud, but he knows that Baekhyun has a great figure. He’s not blind, he lives with the man, and he has seen him walk around in tight jeans, short shorts and all. But how would Jongdae know? His friend’s lips curl in a grin which is a little frightening, eyes hooded and dangerous.

“He dropped his pencil” he explains darkly, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that would be funny if Chanyeol wasn’t horrified. The taller gapes in shock; what the heck? But then again, why shouldn’t he expect this from a currently retired playboy? It was presumably with good intentions…

“I hate you” is all he needs to say and all that needs to be said between friends on such occasions. Jongdae sticks his tongue out mockingly and Chanyeol does a pretty good job at ignoring him; it’s a sport he excels at, after years and years of practice.

They talk about other stuff after that mortifying conversation; there is always something to say between friends, but even the silences are comfortable, even though with Jongdae they are always doomed to be short-lived. The man is a human chatterbox. About half an hour passes like this, the couples on the street coming and going, carrying shopping bags and ice cream from the shop down the corner, holding hands. It’s like these days the scenery never changes. Chanyeol forgets himself in conversation and the constant motion of the city, so when Jongdae’s smile gains a strange hue, Chanyeol doesn’t ponder on the reason and brushes it off as a non-verbal comment on what the girl behind him is wearing.

“Let me see your best smile, lover boy” Jongdae says cryptically, completely unrelated to what he had just been talking about, and it really confuses Chanyeol, resulting in him uttering a very eloquent reply.

“Huh?”

The next thing Chanyeol knows, Jongdae turns to the side animatedly to greet someone close to their table, his smile unusually cheerful. “Hi, you must be Baekhyun!” at the sound of Jongdae’s greeting, Chanyeol whips his head to the side, eyes wide in surprise; he had almost forgotten about Baekhyun!

But sure enough, the short man approaching their table timidly is Baekhyun, a slightly unsure smile playing on his rosy lips; he is obviously intending to approach them though, gaze dancing between the two of them. He is carrying his laptop bag, the weight dragging the knit fabric off his shoulder a little, exposing his sharp collarbones, and Chanyeol can see the fake freckles across his nose --Baekhyun is not shy of playing with makeup, and he manages a natural result each time, it’s actually very impressive. He looks small and warm, his honey hair shining in the sun like silk, and Chanyeol is surprised with himself for being so mesmerised; he has seen Baekhyun before, even in this exact same attire, this morning.

“I am” Baekhyun agrees with Jongdae’s guess, showing his eyesmiles at the man he doesn’t know momentarily, and then he smiles at Chanyeol more brightly, being familiar. Chanyeol is probably expected to say something, but the taller has forgotten how that function works, his mouth gaping open permanently, so Jongdae takes it upon himself to introduce himself; he’s a big boy, he can handle it, and he has had lots of practice meeting people like the social butterfly he is, in spite of his work requiring him to stay cooped up in front of a computer for hours each day.

“I’m Jongdae, Chanyeol’s best friend sometimes” he says, shaking hands with Baekhyun amicably. Chanyeol idly notices Baekhyun’s large sleeve sliding down his forearm and covering his whole hand after the handshake, before Baekhyun pushes it up to his elbow again, thin forearms looking pale and smooth in the light.

“Sometimes?” he queries, one eyebrow curling in bewilderment. Jongdae chuckles at that, sending Chanyeol an amused look; the taller scrunches his nose at hs friend.

“I oftentimes hate him” he mumbles under his breath, and Jongdae laughs more openly, leaning back in his seat; yes, he hates him sometimes, when he is too embarrassing for Chanyeol’s lacking social skills to handle, like he is being right now --but not really. Baekhyun doesn’t seem to understand the inside joke entirely, but he definitely detects it and he smiles, even though his fang is biting the corner of his lip slightly, unsure if it’s okay to show amusement at Chanyeol’s expense. Chanyeol assures him with a smile, long overdue, and with a warm greeting. “Hi, Baek, have a seat” he invites him to join them, accepting his fate; Jongdae will nag for years --quite literally-- if Chanyeol tries to avoid this meeting, and who knows what he and Sehun will talk about behind his back then. Baekhyun nods, accepting the invitation willingly, and Chanyeol shuffles one chair to the side, giving him his seat. Baekhyun places his bag carefully under his chair as he sits down, and then fixes his sleeves, lifting them both to his elbows, exposing tender skin. “Thank you for the lemon pie, it was exquisite” Chanyeol remembers to thank him, his empty plate serving as evidence; he tries not to mind Jongdae’s blatant staring at his housemate. What else would he expect, that man has hawk eyes. Baekhyun smiles.

“It’s this place’s specialty, I’m glad you liked it” he chirps, pushing his glasses up his nose with his index finger.

“So, Chanyeol tells me you’re a blogger?” Jongdae quips, joining the conversation --took him long enough, and let Chanyeol clarify that it wasn’t him who told Jongdae, it was in fact Sehun. Chanyeol is sure his friend has a long list of questions, waiting to unload them on poor, unsuspecting Baekhyun; then again, Baekhyun did come here on his own, and he can take care of himself, probably up against far worse than Jongdae’s indiscretion. Said man smiles at his new acquaintance angelically, lip corners curling charmingly, and you’d never suspect what Chanyeol has been consistently, systematically going through all these years.

“Exactly, yes” Baekhyun breezes through his answer, seemingly happy that he is not a complete stranger to Chanyeol’s friend, his posture comfortable. Chanyeol can feel a spark here between these two, and he is under the impression his contribution won’t be needed much in this conversation.

Baekhyun starts explaining how he got here for the meeting with his colleagues, telling Jongdae about his second job, and the latter naturally shares information about his own profession. It takes a little shy of two hours for Baekhyun and Jongdae to breathe again, both talking fast and enthusiastically, functioning in the same wavelength, their brains processing at the same speed. It turns out they have a lot in common, one of the hottest topics they engage in being their mutual love for online games; Jongdae is a computer geek, so of course he’d like such games, but Chanyeol didn’t know Baekhyun was so knowledgeable of them as well --from what he gathers at least, because the gamer lingo is lost on him. They talk about pets, Jongdae’s still nameless boyfriend, Baekhyun’s work, Chanyeol’s house-tubby habits, and it’s like they’ve clicked; this is either a very good or a very bad thing, because he can sense they’ll someday gang up on him. Chanyeol contributes a few words, but not anything substantial; thankfully, the conversation doesn’t involve him for the most part, and he doesn’t need to defend himself in Baekhyun’s eyes. He just sits and marvels at the magical skills of social people.

Eventually, they realize the time and they pay the bill, leaving the shop the three of them together. Jongdae is already linking arms with Baekhyun before Chanyeol has time to shrug on his jacket, and the brunet smiles brightly at the gesture; safe to say, they are already friends.

“Are you going home?” Chanyeol asks Baekhyun once they are outside on the sunlit pavement, fixing his collar. The shorter squints to see against the sun when he looks up at Chanyeol; it’s kind of cute how his nose scrunches, painted freckles creasing.

“No, I have plans with a friend” he says, a small pout of disappointment curving his lips downwards. Jongdae coos at the sight, and Baekhyun nudges him in the ribs with his elbow bashfully, but his focus remains solely on Chanyeol. “He’ll probably keep me for dinner, too; I won’t stay over though. See you later?” he suggests, tilting his head hopefully; his fringe falls across his eyes behind his thin, round glasses, and he looks so innocent.

“Sure” Chanyeol accepts with a smile and a casual shrug of his shoulders. Later means after dinner, which probably means dessert on the couch, sitting side by side, Baekhyun holding the ice cream tub and Chanyeol reaching over to scoop spoonfuls. Baekhyun beams up at him, his pearly whites sparkling, the top of his hair tinted amber in the setting sun; it might be the reflection of a stay sun ray against Baekhyun’s glasses that dazes Chanyeol a little. They exchange brief parting lines, Jongdae going as far as hugging Baekhyun tightly, phone numbers already exchanged. Chanyeol and his shorter friend stay behind to wave at Baekhyun as he walks down the road, bag slung over his shoulder, his cinnamon sweater reaching mid-thigh over his black skinny jeans, hair fluffy and eyeglasses innocent, making him look so much younger.

Chanyeol is drawn out of his daze when Jongdae hooks an arm around his neck and pulls him down to his height. “You can take me home!” he whines into his ear, loud enough to be heard from Mars. Chanyeol flinches away and gives his cackling friend an offended look, nursing his large ear with his hand and sharing his mind, that he will dump Jongdae in a ditch on the way and that’s final.

~**~


End file.
